L'Chayim
by Beth Smith
Summary: After six years of fighting their pasts and fighting for each other, Puck and Quinn face the hardest and most unexpected fight yet.
1. I Wanna Wake Up Where You Are

**Author's Note: **

**This story is a collaboration between **_**Beth Smith**_**, who writes for Quinn, and **_**tinkerbellbones**_**, who writes for Puck, and is derived from a text-based roleplay game ****involving both authors and their characters****.**

It is set in February 2016; Puck and Quinn live in Lima, Ohio, with their daughter Beth [five years old], whom they decided at the eleventh hour to keep and raise. After beginning a relationship in February 2011, they married in September 2015. While Puck had a [canon] vasectomy over the summer of 2010, the couple decided to have it reversed prior to their wedding, and learned over Hanukkah that they were expecting. Quinn formally converted to Conservative Judaism in January 2016 after a humiliating public excommunication that occurred at her Presbyterian Church.

**We'd like to warn you before you continue to read that this story will contain some potentially upsetting subject matter involving pregnancy trauma that will occur after the first chapter. We have set it at a Mature rating for that reason, and we have done our best to use our experience (and research that which our experience does not include) to write this as truthfully as possible. Please consider this when deciding whether or not you will continue to read this story. **

**Disclaimer: **Neither author owns anything to do with _Glee_ and does not profit from the writing of this story. The plot is a collaborative effort from the authors' minds.

**Thank you for reading.  
_Beth Smith_ and _tinkerbellbones_**

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**L'Chayim**

Chapter One

"I Wanna Wake Up Where You Are"

Quinn smiles at her husband as he walks out the door to head off to work. She's still got an hour or so before Beth is up and hungry, so she crawls back into bed for a few extra winks.

She hasn't been asleep long when she wakes up with the terrible feeling that something is horribly wrong. Her back aches, and she feels like she's having major menstrual cramps, but... that doesn't make any sense... She's seventeen weeks pregnant... She's not going to have menstrual cramps.

Her hand moves to cover her tiny bump. "It's okay," she says softly, to herself and her baby. She needs to know that this is nothing.

But honestly, she's scared... She glances back at the clock. Puck's been gone maybe half an hour. She grabs her phone from the bedside table and calls him, praying to God that he will answer.

This morning is, superficially, like any other morning for Noah Puckerman. He rides in one of the pickup trucks with Adam, who's driving while he nurses a scalding cup of coffee. The morning had been one of those mornings you want to forget, to crawl back in bed and sleep for another two years. The coffee was a way of coping with that; he hadn't wanted to leave a drowsy Quinn, spooning behind her with his hand cupping her belly [growing a little more every fucking day, and he _loves_ that he's been able to give her this, and to take none of this for granted as he witnesses all the things he'd missed with Beth] as their daughter slept downstairs. The past year had been a fucking whirlwind, and he and Quinn had celebrated their usual several-day-extravaganza of both their anniversary (11 February - 2016 made five years together) and Valentine's Day. Even if he'd been inclined to forget either holiday, it was pretty ingenious that the dates aligned so that they'd never forget. Beth's in kindergarten now and she's definitely her father's hell-raising daughter with the saccharine sweetness of her mother, and he'd slipped into her bedroom to kiss her forehead before leaving for work. It was their routine. If he didn't do it, Beth would be upset with him when he returned home from work at night.

His phone rings, and he'd grumble if it were anybody other than Quinn. Queen's "Somebody to Love" is the song that plays when she calls, and it makes him smile even when he's got a headache and really wants to be anywhere than where he's at. He loves his job working construction, and Adam's his best friend on site and they usually work together, but for the past few days, he really hasn't wanted to leave home. He's becoming one of those guys who are utterly domesticated; he's tamed and owned by virtue of the ring on his finger. It's comfortable, and he hasn't removed it since the moment Quinn slipped it on his finger. He doesn't want to risk losing it. He doesn't want to see what his hand looks like without it.

"'Sup, MILF?" he answers the phone teasingly, a smile curving over his lips. "I miss you, babe. You miss me, too?" he asks before she has a chance to say anything. Now really isn't the time for phone sex - at least, not on his end - but he's not opposed to vaguely guiding her through it. His smile widens at the thought, and he settles back in the passenger seat, coffee forgotten.

"Puck..." Quinn says, hearing his voice on the other line. "I... Baby, I feel really weird... I'm all achy and stuff..." She's got major cramps in her abdomen, too, but she's chalking that up to eating something that didn't agree with her. Granted, that's not even the same vicinity as her stomach, but hey... Weird things happen to pregnant ladies. "Do... do you think you could get your mom to come get Beth for kindergarten today... I think it might be the flu thing, and I feel really awful."

Quinn isn't the type to ask for help if she can do something herself, but she feels pretty rough.

Puck frowns at her question, glancing out the window. It's out of the ordinary for Quinn to ask for help; she'd barely faltered, even when the inaccurately-named "morning sickness" had her hunched over the toilet morning, noon, and night. Today's work site isn't_ too_ far away, and he'd be able to drive back if he needed to get Beth, or return to their home. "Just achy?" he asks quietly, admittedly a little worried and trying to keep his voice from being affected by his emotions. He's pretty good at lying when he has to, but Quinn can always tell when he's hiding something. He's learned to just not do that. It's easier when it comes to their relationship. The whole _honesty is the best policy_ thing? Honesty keeps you from sleeping on the couch.

"Babe," he suggests softly, "why don't you call your doc, see what he says? Maybe there's something you can take to make it stop hurting. I'll call my mom, see if she and Hannah can take Beth. I can pick her up on my way home or something. I want you to lie down and rest, okay? And call me if you get worse or you need me."

Quinn nods, as if Puck can see her, and says, "Sure, baby... I love you, okay?" She doesn't know why she says it that way, like she needs to be sure he knows that, as if she's not already. "Bye..."

She hangs up the phone, and dials the OB (who she may or may not have put on speed dial), giving him a brief description of what's going on. He seems to believe it's the flu, just as Quinn does, and tells her to take some Tylenol and rest... drink a lot of water and juice to keep herself hydrated, and avoid being around Beth if she can to keep from passing the germs on to the little girl.

Puck's mom arrives on time to pick Beth up for school, and comes in to check on Quinn. "I'm okay..." the woman insists. "Stupid flu on top of being pregnant..." She sighs. "Just my luck, I guess." She really does feel pretty miserable.

After Puck's mom and Beth are gone, the normal hustle and bustle of the house are gone with them, and Quinn feels very much alone. A quick glance at the clock tells her that her cooperating teacher for student teaching will already be at the school. Quinn calls her to let her know that she's not feeling well and won't be in, but the sub plans are ready. The woman is totally understanding, for which Quinn is extremely grateful. She closes her eyes, trying to go back to sleep, or, at the least, rest like she promised Puck she would.

She doesn't know how long she's been asleep when she wakes. It's later, but how much later, she isn't sure. She's feeling worse, cramping more, and when she goes to the bathroom, it becomes evident that something's not exactly right. She stumbles back to the bedroom, finding her cell phone, and calls Puck.

"Baby... please answer... please..." she whispers into the phone as it rings.


	2. Holding Onto the Phone

**Author's Note: **

**First, we apologize for the formatting! FF dot net doesn't allow you many options when it comes to formatting. If anybody has any constructive suggestions or tips, please feel free to let us know, and we'll try to include them if possible. The shift in points-of-view is a bit confusing, and we do apologize for that, and we'd love to make it easier for you to read while still maintaining the integrity of the story. We've done some minor format edits and re-uploaded to make our story better. **

**Second, we'd like to recognize our reviewers. We have both written and read enough to know that it's easy to read a story but more time-consuming to review it, even if all you say is, "Great job! I'd love to see more!" We'd like to give back and let you know that your effort is appreciated and considered.**

BritBrat1992**, thank you! ****We had written about 10,000 words, e-looked at each other, and said, "…Maybe we should post this?" **** W****hile we can tell you that Quinn will be okay, it will be a struggle for both Quinn and Puck. **

Gleefanfic55**, thank you so much! We won't give away any more than we already have, ****but, sadly, not everything in life is perfect. ****We have ****quite a bit written and we're trying to break it down into chapters and format it without overwhelming our readers, so there will absolutely be more.**

quinnfabrayxxx**, thank you! We're glad that you're enjoying the story so far, and we already have more than 12,000 words written**** [****just checked]****! ****We're working**** on it ****every day, and the positive encouragement is wonderful to hear.**

**Lastly, thank you to our anonymous reviewers - we haven't forgotten about you, and we're grateful that you took the time to let us know what you think!**

**Thanks,  
_Beth Smith_ and _tinkerbellbones_  
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**L'Chayim**

Chapter Two

"Holding Onto the Phone"

_She doesn't know how long she was asleep when she wakes up later. She's feeling worse, cramping more, and when she goes to the bathroom, it becomes evident that something's not exactly right. She stumbles back to the bedroom, finding her cell phone, and calls Puck.  
_

_"Baby... please answer... please..." she whispers into the phone as it rings._

Puck's phone rings again, sounding with the chorus of "Somebody to Love"; it's a few hours later, and he's got a lunch break that he hasn't yet taken. "Hey, Q, you okay?" he asks softly, rolling his shoulders to alleviate the tension there.

"Baby..." Quinn says, her voice tense and frightened. "Baby... there was... blood and... Like when Beth was born... Something's not right... It feels weird. I'm having really awful cramps, and it _hurts_." Now for the part she hates. She doesn't want to take him away from work, but she's kind of scared. "Baby... Can you come home?"

_Blood_, he thinks, the color draining from his face. "_Fuck_," he mutters softly, standing up and waving his hand to get Adam's attention. "I'll get there as soon as I can, baby. I'm gonna leave now." He knows enough about pregnancy to know that this? This is not good. "Just lie down, babe. Grab a bucket if you're gonna puke. Just lie down and wait for me to get there. If it gets too bad, call my mom to come over. Hannah can watch Beth. I _love_ you, baby. Don't... just stay there." Adam jogs over, about to mutter some sort of tease about taking his _break_ now that's probably going to follow a vulgar hand gesture, but Puck stops him, mouthing, "I gotta go home _now_," with emphasis on the _now_. His face? Dead serious and kind of fucking terrified.

His immediate acceptance is comforting. "Okay... Beth's still at school... Someone needs to pick her up..." Ever the mom... Even in the midst of totally freaking out, Quinn's concerned about how her daughter is getting home. The pain is getting worse, and she's not sure what exactly she should do, so she follows Puck's directions, and settles down into the bed, but this time, she can't get comfortable. She's tense, and tightness keeps moving through her abdomen. "Puck... hurry?" she asks, before she says that she loves him and begins to hang up. Palms spread flat over her baby bump, she realizes her abdomen is kind of hard. "It's okay, baby..." she says softly to her unborn child. "Your daddy's on his way home..."

Quinn is under enough stress right now to worry about Beth. "I'll handle Beth," he soothes, doing his best to sound calmer than he actually is. "Just lie down, Quinn. I'll be home as soon as I can. Call if it gets worse... call your doctor." He would, but she can give a more accurate description of what's happening than he can. "Or we can call when I get home. Don't worry about anything, I got you, Q." He makes a kiss noise into the phone, forget _badassness_. "I love you so much, babe. Just lie down." It's clear that she's in pain, and he ends the call abruptly. He knows what he needs to do, and the first part of that is to eliminate her stress.

They've been together for five years, and it doesn't matter how many times he says it, or what the situation is. Quinn always feels better when he says _I got you_, despite the fact that she's pretty sure her unborn child is inside of her with a knife stabbing her in the abdomen. "I love you, too," she repeats back to him, trying so hard to get comfortable as they end their call.

He immediately acts. All it takes is a brief explanation to Adam - who says he'll cover for him - and a phone call to his boss, and he has permission to take one of the smaller trucks back to the office [headquarters] to get his car and head home. _Take all the time you need_, his boss tells him; Puck rarely missed work and he'd been there since the spring of his senior year - just about four years. He was a steady and good worker, and a family emergency is just that, an emergency.

Puck probably breaks about fifty laws to get back home, but nobody sees him because it's mostly back roads and the place is pretty dead with everybody in work or school. He remembers at the last minute, in the chaos, to call somebody - he chooses Kurt - and asks him to pick up Beth from school and keep her until further notice. He then calls his mother and tells her that there's something wrong with Quinn and they might need her to either go to the house or take Beth from Kurt, so keep her phone on. He can't tell her anything else except that there's blood and Quinn's sick. To any nurse, that's not a good sign. To a nurse expecting a grandchild from her son and his wife, that's a horrible sign. He asks her to pray. He fears the worst because he hasn't heard good news yet.

He uses his keys to enter the house, oddly quiet during the daytime. When Beth is home, she's noisy and playful; when Quinn is home, she's singing, and when they're both home, the noise is almost deafening. He loves it. This doesn't seem right, for things to be this quiet.

When she hears the door, she's lying in bed, shifting every few minutes because she's so uncomfortable. "Baby... is that you?" she calls out, her voice strained.

He hears her voice, small and almost barely audible, and calls out in reply, "I'm home, baby! Stay there, I'm coming up." He kicks off his boots [he'd untied them at a stoplight, because they were muddy] at the back door and jogs upstairs quickly to find Quinn.


	3. Maybe I Was Born to Hold You

**Author's Note:**

**Wow! Thank you, everybody, for your positive responses! We've done some fine-tuning and hopefully this format will be easier for everyo****ne to read. The lines between our writing are slightly more blurred, but **_**Beth Smith**_** continues to write for Quinn, and **_**tinkerbellbones**_** continues to write for Puck. We do not use a beta reader.**

sdmwd1115**, it'll be a difficult journey for Quinn and Puck, and we're not yet sure where that journey will end, but they'll be stronger and closer as a result of it. **

BritBrat1992**, ****we realized over the course of our re-editing that, while we'd discussed Quinn's pregnancy between ourselves, we hadn't mentioned the exact timeline within the first chapter. Quinn is approximately seventeen weeks pregnant at this time. **** We're glad that you enjoy the story so far and hope that you continue to do so.**

quinnfabrayxxx**, thank you for another review! We're glad that you're enjoying the story so far, and we'll definitely keep updating. **

a l i t t l e m a d**, ****we're continuing to write this story in one large block, and separating it where it makes the most sense to us. As this is a tragedy, we don't want to throw too much into one chapter****. We hope that you continue to enjoy it!**

**Thanks,****  
**_**Beth Smith**_** and **_**tinkerbellbones**_

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**L'Chayim**

Chapter Three

"Maybe I Was Born to Hold You"

_When she hears the door, she's lying in bed, shifting every few minutes because she's so uncomfortable. "Baby... is that you?" she calls out, her voice strained._

_He hears her voice, small and almost barely audible, and calls out in reply, "I'm home, baby! Stay there, I'm coming up." He kicks off his boots [he'd untied them at a stoplight, because they were muddy] at the back door and jogs upstairs quickly to find Quinn._

Lying in bed, Quinn struggles to keep from crying. She's getting scared, but she knows her husband... knows that he's as scared as she is, and she doesn't want to scare him more. When Puck enters the room, she looks up at him, terror in her hazel eyes. "Baby..." she whispers. Simply that and nothing more, because her throat aches with trying not to cry.

After she gets herself somewhat under control, she looks at him, worry in her eyes. "Beth?" She doesn't have to elaborate. She knows that he knows what she means.

"Kurt's got Beth," Puck murmurs, kneeling by the edge of the bed, reaching out to smooth Quinn's hair. She looks terrified and in pain; the last time he'd seen her like this, he was nothing to her and she was telling him how much he sucked. "He's keeping her. Mom'll take her if we need her to, and she's got her phone if we need her here. I got you, babe. Work told me to take all the time we need." His palm is heavy against her hair, and he leans in to softly kiss her forehead. "What do you think it is?" he murmurs. "Do you want me to call your doc or do you wanna just go on bedrest? Is it just spotting, baby? I'll get you water, some soup, rub your back if you want." He leans in to kiss her forehead again. "Let me take care of you guys."

Sometimes, Quinn still marvels at how gentle and tender Puck has become over the years. She still remembers the wild boy she fell in love with all those years ago, but that's not who he is anymore. It's better this way. They're happy, he loves her, he takes care of her and Beth, and things usually seem about as close to perfect as any two flawed people can get them. Her eyes traces the worried lines of his face, and she takes his hand in her own. "Maybe... Maybe if I just lie down for the rest of the day, I'll feel better," she offers. What she doesn't say is that she's afraid of what Dr. Wu would say, and she wants to fight like hell before she gives him a chance to tell her that she's really in trouble.

"I'm not really hungry..." she considers before answering softly. "But... I'd like some water. And a backrub sounds wonderful..." Her hand stretches out to touch his face gently, a bit of stubble rough against her hand. "You always take care of us..."

He nods, accepting of her words. She's been through pregnancy before, while he'd only watched her from a distance. [And, okay, he got a little too close to labor and delivery, considering the fact that he was a seventeen-year-old guy and she wouldn't have been able to see what he'd seen without the use of a mirror.] She knows what's going on, at least more than he'd know. "Okay," he agrees, continuing to stroke her hair, his thumb caressing her cheekbone. She looks paler than normal, with spots of color on her cheeks. "I'll get a bag together for Beth. Between Mom and Hannah, she'll be fine, unless you want me to call your mom and ask her to take Beth for the night. She hasn't had her in awhile," _and my mom could come ov__er if we need her to be here_. The fear hasn't subsided, even if he's trying to convince himself that all is well, that it's just a fluke and maybe it was rough sex combined with a stomach bug, or maybe some dehydration.

Quinn nods. "You can call my mom if you want to, baby... She'll be glad to take Beth, I'm sure..." She really hopes that things are going to be okay.

He strokes her fingers, their hands clasped, and leans in for a soft kiss. "Just stay here," he murmurs. "You gotta pee, you tell me and I'll carry you. I don't want you walking. I'll take care of everything and I'll come lie down with you when I'm done. Hey," he jokes softly, wanting to cheer her up, "thanks for getting me out of work to come and snuggle with you."

"Sweetheart, I'm a grown woman... I can walk..." she argues, but secretly, she's glad he made the offer. She feels miserable, and the idea of walking makes her nervous at this point. She feels so weak and exhausted. She smiles weakly at his comment, and nods. "Yeah... That was _totally_ the plan."

"You're twenty-two," he points out, "and I'm stronger than you are. I wanna be Prince Charming today, okay? Let me get the phone, I'll call your mom and ask if she can take Beth tonight, maybe grab her stuff if she needs it, and have Kurt drop her off there." He's pretty sure that Judy has _plenty_ of new things in the hopes of an impromptu overnight with Beth... or Kurt will take her shopping after school for some Princess Time. His phone is downstairs, and Quinn's is on the dresser where they keep them to charge; he walks to it and quickly texts Judy with the question. Receiving a quick confirmation, he texts Kurt, Judy, and his mother to let them know what the plan for Beth will be. Quinn's ok for now, he adds. With a kiss to the top of her head and a squeeze of her fingers, he pulls away, heading downstairs to grab the breakfast-in-bed tray and load it with a glass of water and an extra bottle, a protein bar, and some Saltines.

Lying in bed, Quinn closes her eyes, trying really hard to concentrate on _anything_ but the growing ache in her abdomen and back. She's starting to feel a little queasy, and she's glad Puck suggested the bucket by the bed. Forcing a smile when he returns to their room, she's pretty sure the water she's been drinking all morning is on its way back up. She _never_ felt like this with Beth. Ever. Constant morning sickness in the first trimester, sure, but this? This is just weird.

That's when it hits her. A wave of nausea that's strong enough to have her leaning over the bed for the bucket. She throws up all the water she'd had to drink that morning violently, and suddenly, she feels something she certainly _had_ experienced with Beth... Just nowhere near this early.

"Oh, my God..." she cries out, throwing back the blankets. The bed is wet where she's lying, and she looks up at Puck. "Baby..." she says, her tone strained. "Puck, call the doctor... Please! Call him!" she screams, eyes filling with tears. She knows this isn't right. They have to do _something_.


	4. You Say That Things Change, My Dear

**Author's Note:**

rachelxbabby**, thank you so much for commenting twice! We're glad that you're enjoying the story so far. Puck's attitude toward Quinn is something unique for him; ****regardless of how he behaves with others, he loves her immensely and gives her his best. He is also very protective of her, something which will come into play in later chapters. Please let us know if there's anything you think that we could do better!**

quinnfabrayxxx**, we're glad that you enjoy the minor cliffhangers! We don't intend to make it so suspenseful, but our breaks seem to be the most natural place for us to end a chapter before beginning a new one. We'd love to hear any suggestions that you might**** have.**

Gleefanfic55**, thank you for continuing to read and letting us know how you feel! We hope that you enjoy the progression of the story.**

QuickLoverx3**, we're thrilled that you love this story! We've been focusing on writing it, and we've gotten some good ideas through the process. Regarding the meaning of "L'Chayim," it'****s Hebrew meaning, "To Life." It's often used as a well-meaning sentiment or toast [like "Cheers!" or "**_**Slainte!**_**"]. There will be a fair amount of Hebrew used throughout the story, although we'll do our best to put translations where we feel that they're needed. If you come across a word that we don't translate for you, Google is your friend. We've completed a significant amount of this story so far, and we****'ve included enough "Easter eggs" that aren't clearly stated, but will give more of a meaning to a situation if they're researched. We hope that you continue to enjoy it. **

**As always, thank you to all of our visitors, and to those who have put ****L'Chayim**** as a Favorite Story or on Story A****lert. **

**Thanks for reading!**

_**Beth Smith**_** and **_**tinkerbellbones**_

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**L'Chayim**

Chapter Four

"You Say That Things Change, My Dear"

"_Oh, my God..." she cries out, throwing back the blankets. The bed is wet where she's lying, and she looks up at Puck. "Baby..." she __says, her tone strained. "Puck, call the doctor... Please! Call him!" she screams, eyes filling with tears. She knows this isn't right. They have to do something._

It all happens so, so quickly. Puck slides the tray onto the dresser, taking the bottle and uncapping it before taking a long swig. It might be easier for Quinn to drink from the bottle, he reasons, especially if she's lying on her side. He'd forgotten a straw, and he frowns at himself as he swallows.

She takes him by surprise when she lurches to one side of the bed, a _strange_ expression on her face, and he grabs the bucket and shoves it under her mouth before she throws up. [Another two seconds and their carpet would have been toast, because he's not about to steam-clean the thing when she's this sick and needs his attention.] That was bad, but par for the course when it came to a stomach bug.

All hell breaks loose.

When she throws the covers back, _freaking_ the _fuck_ out, he immediately wraps his arms around her in a hug. "What's wrong," he asks, trying to stay calm, his voice anxious and impatient. He understands that this is time-sensitive, but he doesn't exactly know... _why_. "Quinny, baby, tell me. I'm right here."

Now isn't the time to ask questions, though. "Puck, please!" she screams as he puts his arms around her. "My water broke, Puck... Baby... Our baby... Puck, dammit, call him! Please!" Tears are streaming down her face now, and she's screaming at him, begging, pleading. Her hands go to her abdomen, as if she can hold the baby in that way. "Please, Puck..." she whispers, barely able to speak through her sobs.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_. An infinite number of repeats of that word don't even come _close _to summing this up. He kisses her forehead, nodding mutely, and takes her phone just outside the door of the bedroom.

He doesn't call her doctor. He calls his mother and quickly explains everything. Seventeen weeks. She's only seventeen weeks. If they'd picked it up sooner, they could have sutured her cervix, his mother tells him, because hadn't she had Beth a month earlier than she was due, and prematurity was suggested? If there had been any indication - other than the ache and the blood, nothing you'd immediately take as a sign of labor unless you were basically right there, waiting to deliver - they could have checked her into the hospital, given her some terbutaline or magnesium sulfate, gotten the contractions - if that's what the ache was, and, given the fact that her water had just broken, his mother agrees that she's been contracting - under control, and put her on strict pelvic and bed rest. They've fought through so much for this baby.

All her doctor and the hospital will do at this point, his mother tells him, is to make her comfortable. Give her painkillers if she wants them. Labor's already coming, so she doesn't need to be induced. She tries to comfort him, saying that maybe they had a missed miscarriage. Does she have a fever? No, which is a good sign. [She hadn't felt hot against his kiss.] They'll check her into the hospital, give her painkillers, give her IV antibiotics, and possibly offer her a D&C. There will be paperwork. There will be other people, doctors and nurses and the same chaos that was Beth's birth, only more subdued. They won't need a pediatric team on standby. This will probably go quickly. She has faith in him to do the right thing, she tells him, and she compliments him so rarely that he swallows past the lump in his bone-dry throat and believes it.

"Baby," he murmurs, his voice heartbreakingly calm as tears flood his eyes, "we need to stay here. There's nothing they can do, and if we go, it's gonna be - crazy." He kneels next to the bed, pressing soft kisses against the bulge of her belly, stroking it gently even as he can feel the tightening of the muscle as another contraction hits. "I'll fill up the bathtub, climb in with you and hold you if you want. I'm not gonna leave you, but... there's nothing they can do. We gotta stay here." He rests his cheek against her belly, gazing up at his wife. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

Quinn can't accept this. It can't be over after everything they went through to get this far. She pleads with him silently to fix this... She knows he can't... She can't either, and neither can a doctor, but it feels like giving up. He's kissing her belly, and she starts screaming again. "Puck, please! Don't... I... we have to do something... _This is our baby_, Puck... We can't just let our baby die... We_ can't_!" Her throat hurts from screaming combined with trying not to cry. She pounds ineffectual fists into the bed at her sides and lets out a heartbroken yell... No words. There is nothing left to say.

He's offering to hold her while their baby is born... Their baby who isn't ready yet... Their baby who is going to be dead when he or she comes into the world, and it's not fair. A vasectomy reversal, months and months of trying, and this is what it comes down to? There has to be something else. There just has to be.

"Puck..." she chokes out. "Puck, please... The doctor... He... We need the doctor..." It's irrational and hopeless, and Quinn knows it, but in her heartbreak, all she can see is that doctors are supposed to help, and Puck's not taking her to one. They're both in tears, and Puck's telling her he's sorry, but it doesn't help. It doesn't matter who's sorry, or what they do, their baby isn't going to survive, and there is nothing either of them can do to change that.

She pushes his head off of her belly, a little more roughly than she'd meant to, and tries to stand up, only to be hit again with exhaustion and weakness. If Puck won't take her to the doctor, she'll go herself... She just has to get to the car.


	5. And Coming from My Eyes are Many Rivers

**Author's Note:**

**Wow! We're astonished at the response that ****L'Chayim**** has received so far. Thank you, all of you, so much for your input and your attention to our story. **

**We would like to let you know that** if where this story seems to be heading is something that makes you uncomfortable, you may want to cease reading**. We completely understand that the subject matter may be emotionally difficult or triggering for some people. Please know that we write this as seriously as we possibly can, because the events themselves are very real to those who have experienced them, and we deliberately do our best to remain as accurate as possible for that reason. **

**We will also begin to thank our reviewers at the bottom of each chapter rather than the top. We would like to thank you, but as the story picks up and becomes more intense, we feel that it may be detrimental to have an Author's Note at the beginning of each chapter. Please feel free to ask any questions (or let us know if you'd prefer the Author's Note at the introduction) and we'll do our best to answer them.  
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**Thank you, everyone!**

_**Beth Smith**_** and **_**tinkerbellbones**_

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**L'Chayim**

Chapter Five

"And Coming from My Eyes are Many Rivers"

_She pushes his head off of her belly, a little more roughly than she'd meant to, and tries to stand up, only to be hit again with exhaustion and weakness. If Puck won't take her to the doctor, she'll go herself... She just has to get to the car._

She finally puts it into the words he's really trying to _not_ think about. He'll be twenty-three in a month and that's way too fucking young to be dealing with all of this, to be the strong one for his wife. Running away or leaving her in the hands of a doctor isn't an option. This is both of them, and he'll stand by her side. If he doesn't stand by her, then he doesn't deserve to be with her.

"Quinn," he murmurs, as she screams and cries. "Quinn, baby, there's nothing they can do. They'd tell you to come in and just have the baby there. They wouldn't even try to save it. They couldn't. They can't. Baby, you _gotta_ calm down, just - baby, no." She shoves him away. He dismisses the mild pain of his neck and the fist-crushing-heart pain he feels in his chest. "Don't get up, Quinn." He's two seconds away from using his Daddy voice, the one he uses when Beth is out of control. "Quinn," he grabs her wrists, his own tears running tracks down his cheeks, "we _have_ to stay here. If you wanna do this without a bunch of tubes and IVs and paperwork and shit, you _have _to calm down. Even if we go there, they can't do _anything_. The baby's probably already gone..." He takes a deep breath, his voice shuddering. "If we go there, they're gonna make us fill out paperwork, and get you an IV, and tell you they'll do a D&C if you want. And we might not even make it there. Do this with me... let's get through this together, baby. You and me. Endgame, remember?"

Puck doesn't cry. Quinn can probably count on one hand the number of time's she's even seen one tear in those dark eyes, and now, they're running down his face. His hands are firm, but not painful, on her wrists, and she pushes hard against them, trying to get up, get away, get to the doctor... do _something_, even as he tells her it's too late, and he wants to be here for her in this. She wants him to be here, too... But she wanted him to be there in August holding their newborn baby, too, and this just isn't fair.

He wants her to calm down and do this with him, but it all sounds so much easier than what it is. She's used to doing hard things with Puck. She's used to raising a 5-year-old, and fighting through hell to stay with him when things get hard and people judge... she's used to being twenty-two years old and married with a little girl when most of their friends their age don't even date seriously. She's used to all of that. But this? How do you get used to something like this?

Noah Puckerman is used to having to man up and take charge. The night of their championship game, their first significant title at McKinley in so long [forever?], he'd been the one to step forward and take charge, making it possible for them to win the game. He'd bridged the gap and gotten the rest of the football players to perform at the halftime show and finish the game. He gets people. He gets leadership. He lives it and always has. When everybody else has been getting drunk and skipping classes on their parents' money, he's been working his ass off to provide for Quinn and their daughter. A house rented less than three months after graduation has become a home for them. He was proud of himself and everything they'd accomplished.

This time with Quinn is no different. He has to be a father. He has to be a best friend, a husband, a loyal lover and confidante. He has to be a man, because he's the one distanced from this. He doesn't have to go into labor and push and panic. He needs to know what to do and to make sure it's the right decision for her, for them. That's his job, and his confidence in his own abilities wavers as he watches her tense.

A yell of pain escapes her lips as another contraction hits hard. It's not supposed to be like this... When this is all over, she won't be holding a living beautiful baby... One that she and Puck will parent and love for the rest of their lives... She doesn't know how to wrap her mind around that.

"Run the bath..." she says, her tone flat... almost dead. It just isn't fair. And she keeps thinking that over and over, but it doesn't change anything. Fair or not, this is what they have. A little over two months of excited anticipation, and a baby who will never even live to see his or her due date.

Looking at Puck, Quinn feels infinitely guilty. This isn't really her fault, and she knows that deep down, but right now, all she knows is that Puck is hurting, and their baby is dying or dead, and she can't do anything to change it. She's a mother... Her job is to protect her children, and while Beth is safe, her youngest... the one she should be able to take care of all the time... isn't. Her job is to take care of her children and love Puck, and that's what she wants to do. She takes these duties _very_ seriously, and it hurts when she can't follow through with them.

"Did you buy any blankets for the baby?" he murmurs before she cries out in pain. He slides his arms around her and just holds her close, one palm massaging her lower back and thumb rubbing her hipbone. "Just lie still, Quinn. I'll get you some new pajamas, get the bath ready. I'll get anything else you want, and I'll climb in with you... if you want."

"I... I made one..." she says, her eyes streaming with tears, before the pain of another contraction cuts her off. One of the ladies at Temple had taught her to crochet, and she had made a tiny yellow blanket for the baby. She'd planned it as a surprise for Puck when the baby was born... To see that she had actually been able to _make_ something for their baby. But that doesn't really matter anymore. There's not going to be a joyous birthday for this baby. Just pain and hurt and brokenness. Just a bathtub and parents whose hearts ache as their baby is born.

It's not Quinn's fault; he knows that. He's lived through enough and done enough reading and questioning about this pregnancy to know that, sometimes, these things happen. Yeah, miscarriages are almost unheard-of in the second trimester, but sometimes, they happen. And Beth had been a month early. They've already overcome so much to even get to this point. He hates that it's all crashing down around them, but it's not her fault. It's not his fault. He knows enough to know that much, and the invisible fist tightens around his heart, the sensation of compression felt even in his lungs. She blurts out that she'd made a blanket for the baby and then quivers with the pain of another contraction. He holds her, rubbing her back, murmuring to her how much he loves her and how he won't leave her. He hasn't had enough time to kiss her belly, to rest his head against it and sing, or to play his guitar so their baby could hear music. He wants to do that now, sort of a last goodbye, but he needs to take care of Quinn.

She can't stop crying and he _gets_ that; there's so much emotion involved and he doesn't even know how to react except to deal with it. It feels like it did when he'd signed his name to the papers to give Beth up for adoption, but they'd wanted to give Beth a better life than they had thought they could give her. Beth would have been safe and happy and loved. Their baby won't even have that chance, even with a loving home and two married parents who had grown significantly over the past five years. It felt like a cruel joke, almost irony. When they're prepared for something, they can't have it. Maybe it was the same kind of karma that had dropped a court order for a DNA sample in his mailbox as soon as his relationship with Quinn, five years ago, was strengthening. The paternity test had been negative, and he'd stood strong by her side, reassuring her that his relationship with her, and his love of their daughter, was unwavering, even if her trust in him had been shaken.

When she recovers from the contraction, she points toward the container under the bed where they keep all the things they got for the baby. "It's in the box..." she says. "It... it's yellow..."

She wishes so much that this were already over as she follows Puck's directions, lying down on the bed and trying to focus on his firm hands against her back. It feels good... Or as good as something can feel in these circumstances. "Okay..." she says, wrapping her arms around a pillow and soaking the pillowcase with her tears.

The contraction fades away, and he presses a tender kiss to her forehead - and then one to her belly, his palm smoothing over it, before pulling away. "Stay here, baby," he murmurs, turning and heading for the bathroom to turn the water on in the bathtub, pulling out as many fresh towels as he can find, and stacking them to the side of the tub. A basket of clean laundry sits in Beth's playroom, and he heads there next, rummaging through it to find Quinn's favorite pajamas, placing them in the bathroom with the towels, and turning the water off when the bathtub is halfway full.

"Okay," he murmurs, stepping into their bedroom. "I'll carry you to the bathtub, baby. Just hold onto me."

* * *

**Author's Note Continued:**

**We value your input and constructive criticisms when writing, and you often find things for us that will help us better convey our story. Thank you so much for taking the time to help!**

quinnfabrayxxx**, thank y****ou so much for your compliment and for taking the time to give us your opinion on every chapter. Your positive motivation is appreciated!**

rachelxbabbyy**, there will absolutely be a light at the end of the tunnel for them. We have a few things in mind, but we're not certain exactly where they will fit. One thought we have is absolutely sequel-worthy, and we'll know that before ****L'Chayim**** is complete.**

BritBrat1992**, we absolutely understand what you mean. Not everything can be happy, sad, or entirely predictable, and we hope that we've succeeded in capturing that. We honestly do write these stories together before editing them, and that seems to create a story that is well-rounded and detailed. Thank you!**

1PhEeLyGuRl**, enjoy your update! We hope that you continue to enjoy what we've written.**

QuickLoverx3**, sadly, the statistics for miscarriage are very high. Quinn's was a second-trimester loss, which is less common, but her particular condition often causes them to occur. There will be a light at the end of the tunnel, and they will be stronger because of their struggle.**

sdmwd1115**, thank you for following us, and we wish you the best in your continued journey. We apologize if this should make it more difficult for you or bring up past experiences, and we hope for your comfort and healing.**

Sweettater8**, that is exactly how we feel as the writers. We speak often of how much we love this story, and then say, "Wait - is it bad to say that?" We completely understand. Even tragedy can be beautiful. We hope to include the other Gleeks at some point but this is very much Puck and Quinn's family and thus their story, but we will do our best to find a opportunity to include them - and perhaps ask some "guest writers" to join us. Every character has a unique voice, and we wouldn't want to take away from that voice. Thank you so much!  
**


	6. Make a Deal with God

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Six

"Make a Deal with God"

* * *

"_Okay," he murmurs, stepping into their bedroom. "I'll carry you to the bathtub, baby. Just hold onto me."_

Quinn is totally at a loss; what is she supposed to do? Just lie here and let it happen. It hurts so much, and it's different than it was with Beth, and Puck is so perfect... He's right here, taking care of her to the bitter end. And it all hurts.

When he kisses her belly, she sniffles, wiping the tears from her face before seemingly millions more leave fresh streaks. Why does it have to be this way? Hours ago, this was just another day. Seeing her husband off to work, and taking a quick nap before she would've gotten up to take Beth to kindergarten and head off to a day of being "Mrs. Puckerman" to a bunch of high school kids. Now, it's the day that her baby is born, and that should be a happy day, but it's not.

She weeps openly as Puck gathers the things they need and comes back into the room. He tells her he'll carry her, and she says nothing. Of course he'll carry her. He's always the strong one... Carrying her through things she can't handle on her own. She hates herself sometimes for being so weak, but Puck... Puck is strong for her. Still sobbing, she reaches her arms out for him.

"I'm gonna put you in the bathtub," he murmurs to his crying wife as he lifts her into his arms. "I gotta come back in here, get a couple things, change the bed so we can lie down... later." He's not sure how much fluid seeped into their bed, even though they have waterproof padding between the sheets and mattress. "I'll come right back after that, and if you need me quick, just yell." He wraps one arm around her back and gently hooks the other beneath her knees, feeling her pajamas wet against his forearm.

She's still crying, harder and harder as he carries her into the bathroom, until a contraction hits her. She curls herself into the closest semblance of a ball she can get into without falling out of his arms with a groan. "Puck," she whispers, as if to beg for him to stop the pain. He can't. She knows that.

He says nothing, but drops slow kisses over her temple and hair as he slowly walks with her to the bathroom, sitting them on the toilet seat and waiting until her contraction ends. When her body relaxes once more, he carefully eases her pajamas from her body, like he does with Beth when she's sick. He won't let go of her until she's safe in the warm water of the bathtub, and when he leaves the room, he'll hurry back to her as quickly as he can. "I love you, baby," he whispers, tears still tracking over his cheeks, as he slowly kneels at the side of the bathtub and lowers her in. "I'll be right back."

She focuses on the way her body feels and the things that he does for her, concentrating on the way he helps her out of her pajamas, and lowers her into the bathtub, promising to return as soon as he gets the bed ready for them. Any other time, mention of their bed is usually accompanied by a playful tone and a wiggle of his eyebrows, but this isn't the same at all. He's crying so much, and it hurts her almost as much seeing him cry as it does knowing why he's crying.

Her hands rest on her hard abdomen, eyes squeezed shut as she rides out another contraction. She wants him to come back, quickly. She needs him to be with her. This is too much. She hates it and she can't do it alone. She knows he won't let her. He never would. She means the world to him, and she knows that. "No!" she screams, as if by sheer will she can turn this back and make it not happen.

In the bedroom, he quickly pulls the sheets from the bed, dumping them into the plastic hamper they keep in their room. He'll wash them later, but he doesn't want to waste the time now. The next thing is to drop to his knees and pull out the tote stored beneath the bed where he and Quinn had been keeping the things for the new baby. The blanket she'd crocheted is easy to find, a soft buttercream-yellow square with knotted edging. He pulls that into his arms, draping it over one arm, and grabs her iPod and their portable dock.

_No!_ Her voice sounds from inside the bathroom, and he bolts to her, dropping his pile on the bathroom floor. "Baby?" he blurts out, his eyes wide. "What is it?"

"I..." she's sobbing so hard that she can't make words come out coherently. "Baby… Don't wanna... Puck... Please..." She can't be alone anymore. She won't be okay. Not now. She needs him here with her until this is all over. She watches the blanket tumble from his arm, and another contraction wracks her body with pain.

His heart breaks all over again. He's never seen her this upset, sobbing so hard that she can barely speak and he only understands a word here and a word there. "I'm right here, baby, I'm not gonna leave," he murmurs, turning to fix the iPod dock, hitting the playlist they use when they're lying in bed on a lazy morning. The music is soft, heavy amounts of Norah Jones and Ben Folds, Damien Rice and Ray Lamontagne, soft piano and guitar. It's the most relaxing music that comes to mind, and he can't sit in silence. He places the blanket to the side, out of the way, as he strips down to his shorts and waits for her contraction to fade away before carefully stepping into the bathtub behind her and pulling her back against his chest. "I'll stay right here," he murmurs, his fingers tangling with hers, his arms around her and their gathered hands resting on her belly. "Just close your eyes, baby... try to rest if you can."

Quinn's fully convinced that she will never recover from this, but she knows without a shadow of a doubt that, no matter what happens, Puck is here, and he's not leaving her. He joins her in the bathtub, and he tangles them together, arms protectively wrapped around her body, and hands tangled with hers on her belly. "Puck, it hurts so bad..." she cries, as her body recovers from the contraction just long enough to hit another one. But this one, too, passes, and she rolls her head back onto his shoulder, eyes closed, willing this to be over.

She wishes with everything in her that there were something they could do to stop this, something to keep her from feeling so helpless. But there's not. There is nothing to do but sit here in Puck's arms until her body decides to let this be over. The contractions are coming harder and faster, and she's crying, completely out of control, and feeling really, really sick to her stomach. Her fingers clinch tighter around Puck's hands.

He lies still in the bathtub with her, murmuring words of comfort as his hands stroke her belly, his fingers tangled with hers. "I love you, baby," he whispers, feeling her bulge tighten, hold, and release in a quickening rhythm; the time between the contractions is getting shorter until they're nearly piggybacking, one on top of the other, and she squirms and cries with the pain. "I know this is so hard, baby, but I'm right here, we'll do this together." It's really all he can say in comfort, because he can't make it right. He can't fix it. All he can do is stay by her side and hold her when she needs it.

He's talking to her in the tone he uses with Beth when she's fallen off of her bike, the one she'll soon be riding without training wheels if she has her way; despite everything, he is surprisingly calm. Quinn knows that deep down, he's probably dying inside, just like she is, but she doesn't know what to do to make this better for him... There really isn't anything, except to let him be here and hold her and love her no matter how much this rips them apart. She loves him so much, and she hates knowing how much he wanted this, too, and that they're losing it. But as the contractions speed up, she can't really concentrate on anything except how badly it hurts and the steady pressure of Puck's hands on her bump.

She cries out in pain, and the feeling that this won't take much longer grips her heart. It's going to be over. There's nothing left but time. No hope. No chance. So, she wants it to be over. She doesn't want to keep fighting this fight. She just wants to be freed from it so she can crawl away and tend to her wounds like a beaten animal.

Time seems to alternately speed up and freeze. Hours ago they were lying in bed [and, okay, he always tries to wrangle her into even the briefest morning sex before either of them gets out of bed, because... why not?] and cuddling, his hands on her belly, his lips pressed to hers. It feels like last year, and then he asks himself how it could possibly have been that morning. Everything that's happened feels like a whirlwind, because everything was _just fine_ and then he comes home and she's bleeding and then she throws up and her water breaks and now they're here, wrapped together in the bathtub, because there's no other place that he can think of to do this, to both ease her pain and keep her - _them_, really - calm. Beth's not here and he's so fucking thankful for that because he doesn't want to have to explain to his daughter what's going on upstairs, why Mommy's screaming and crying and why the tears are even pouring down his face. He can't feel the things that Quinn feels; his reaction is more Pavlovian. If she cries, he holds her tighter. If she squirms, he massages her belly, kissing her neck and her hair. He reacts to her cues, doing the best that he can. "I love you, I love you so much," he murmurs repeatedly, needing her to know it, that even in this hell, he's got her and he's not going anywhere. They're both going through this - she more than he, but regardless - it's not just Quinn. She doesn't have to do this alone.

She's not exactly sure when it starts, but her body is telling her to push, and there's nothing she can do but go with it. That's when she realizes there's no doctors or nurses, no one to help her. She cries out in pain as she pushes, and her eyes go wide as she turns them to look at Puck. "Puck, the... the baby..." she groans. She can't watch, even if she could see over her swollen abdomen, and someone has to catch the baby.

He lies with her for a few more minutes, hugging her through contractions that seem excruciatingly painful, both body and heart. She suddenly rises up, just a little, bearing down; she's pushing, and it's almost over, and he's torn between relief and crushing sorrow. Her gaze turns frantic to his, and he nods, shifting up to kneel behind her, leaning over her shoulder. "I got it," he murmurs, waiting, his wrists resting against her shuddering inner thighs. "I'm ready, baby..."

Hazel eyes squeezed shut, Quinn holds on to the sides of the tub, pushing hard, almost against her own will. A few more pushes, and a tiny baby boy is born - and Quinn can't look yet. She doesn't know if she wants to look ever, but she'll have to look eventually. She can't walk away from this without even seeing her baby's face.

He's already gone when he comes, and Quinn knew that was coming, but she can't help being angry. But this still isn't over as her body keeps forcing her to push, clearing her body of what was supposed to protect and shelter her baby. It seems like forever, and it hurts like she can't believe; at some point, Quinn's not sure when, everything is pretty much out and the urge to push lessens, her body allowing her to breathe normally again. She's exhausted, and brokenhearted, and she feels like dying.

He catches everything in his hands as he bites his lip so hard that it bleeds, shifting to climb from the bathtub to better - handle everything. All of this, Quinn crying, pushing, his own heart, and the baby boy he scoops from the water and cradles in his palm. There he is; they would have found out that he was a _he_ during their next ultrasound, scheduled for mid-March. [That is, if they'd wanted to find out. He was torn, and figured that he'd just defer to her decision.] He's impossibly small, eyelids closed, little hands with long fingers clutched to his ribs. Ten toes that he can see, with translucent skin and a thin umbilical cord. That's all that he needed - that and more time. He's not breathing [do they breathe now? he doesn't remember] and hadn't even tried. In some ways, he guesses, that was the only miracle of the day. He doesn't know how much more broken they would have been if he'd struggled and they'd had to watch it end that way.

As Quinn fights to keep pushing, the umbilical cord still attached, he uses his free hand to spread a towel on the floor, folding it enough to be cushioning. He takes the placenta in his other hand as soon as it slides into the water and sinks to the bottom, lifting his hands carefully from the water and placing their son and the placenta, still connected by a cord [he can't bring himself to separate it yet], solemnly on the towel.

"I'm sorry." His voice breaks as he cries, stepping into the tub [which is rapidly swirling with pale red], and kneeling to wrap his arms around Quinn. "I'm so sorry, baby."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

BritBrat1992**, ****thank you so much for letting us know what you thought about Chapter Six. ****The emotion may seem muted or distracted for a few chapters, but such is the nature of grief. We hope that you enjoy Chapter Seven and the remainder of our story.**

**Thanks for reading!**

_**Beth Smith**_** and **_**tinkerbellbones**_


	7. The Silence That Echoes Inside

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Seven

"The Silence That Echoes Inside"

* * *

_"I'm sorry." His voice breaks as he cries, stepping into the tub [which is rapidly swirling with pale red], and kneeling to wrap his arms around Quinn. "I'm so sorry, baby."_

Quinn hasn't looked yet. She hasn't been able to force herself to. She doesn't want to look at her dead baby and know that it will never have a chance to grow up in this little house so full of love. She doesn't want it to have ended this way, and she doesn't know what she could've done. There honestly _isn't_ anything. They wouldn't have been able to save the baby either way. Puck holds her against him as she wails, literally. Loud and broken, she cries, clinging tight to him, and trying to force herself to look at her baby, but she just can't. "Noah..." she manages to cry out as she weeps. She loves him so much.

He holds her for as long as she needs it, his hands rubbing her bare back as she buries her head in his naked chest. She doesn't want to look, and he can't blame her. They're never supposed to see something like this. Parents shouldn't have to watch their children die, to carry them in their bodies and then watch them go - to deliver them, even, to catch them and place them gently on a towel, silent and unmoving. He feels so much older than twenty-two. His tears soak her already damp hair, because there's really no beating the utter desolation of this moment. It's the two of them - three of them - alone in a bathroom, and even the helplessness he felt signing his name to Beth's adoption papers doesn't compare to how he feels right now.

After a few minutes, she manages to make herself look at their tiny son, raising a hand to her face as she gasps. He's so tiny... roughly the size of her hand... He looks like he's only sleeping, and Quinn's heard people say that before, but it's true. She wonders what they're going to do with him... Do you bury a baby like that, or do they have to take him from you at the hospital? She's suddenly fiercely protective of him. She doesn't want the doctors and nurses to take him away and test his tiny body for abnormalities. He's not abnormal. He just didn't have enough time to grow and be ready for his birth. She's crying more softly now as she looks at him. It's over now, and she looks up at Puck. He's perfect... the best man she could ever hope for.

Several hundred combined heartbeats pass before she rests her head against his bicep and gazes over the edge of the bathtub. He doesn't know what else to do; he doesn't want to put their son in Tupperware or a bag or a shoebox. It doesn't seem right. He's tiny and perfect, and she gasps, gazing at him for a few moments before lifting her head to stare into her husband's eyes. Tilting his head, he brushes his lips gently over hers. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I love you, and... I'll never stop." Five years and two children and enough sorrow to meet their Sorrow Quota for the remainder of their lifetimes, even though he knows that won't be the case, that there will be more - there will always be more, because life isn't fair.

Tears flow freely now, but silently, down her cheeks as she rests against Puck's chest. "I... I need to clean up..." she says, her heart aching as she tries to stand up.

She tries to stand, and he shushes her, pressing soft kisses to her forehead. "No, Quinn," he murmurs, trying to think of what he should do. "I'm gonna drain the tub, run it again. Just... stay there, okay? You're still bleeding," which is normal, and she'd done the same thing after giving birth to Beth, "and I don't know what to do," he admits. "I'm gonna call my mom, okay? She'll... she can come over, she'll help us. I'm... I don't know what to do with him, so I'm... gonna take pictures of him and we can call the doctor when Mom gets here. She can handle it and we can just show him the pictures so we can... bury him. I don't wanna let him go," he whispers. "Is that okay?" As protective he is of Beth, she's growing. She's independent, in kindergarten, and can almost ride a bicycle without training wheels. She loves ice cream, PB&Js and loves food and _loves_ Hebrew school. Beth doesn't need him as much as their son does right now, and he needs to be a good father and take care of him until he can't any longer. "I don't know if Rabbi Greenberg can help, baby... if they'd think he's a person yet." He hates the truth.

Quinn listens to Puck when he tells her to wait, not to get up yet. He tells her his plan, to take pictures of their son, to ask his mom what to do, because she's a nurse, and she knows things like this, and they won't let the doctors take their baby away. That's what Quinn wanted to hear. She wants to bury her son, not to see him taken away by doctors who are going to poke and prod at the perfect little body that just didn't have enough time. "I..." Puck mentions the rabbi, and the questionable nature of his ability to help them, and Quinn shakes her head. It doesn't matter what anyone says. This tiny boy is as much a person as the parents who never got to see him grow, as the big sister who never got to play with him, and nothing anyone says will change that for her.

Quinn agrees quietly, but he only suggests these things because he's twenty-two. This is his first experience with this. He doesn't know anybody else who's experienced a miscarriage, and he's never dealt with something like this at temple. Like any wounded boy, he goes to his mother, partially because she's a nurse, and partially because she's his Jewish mother and neither he nor Quinn can handle this alone. She knows more than he does, and her encouragement gave him the strength to stay home and do this, to be a man instead of passing the situation to somebody else and dealing with it at a distance and in a way they couldn't control. If their son won't live in either situation, he wants to have as much control over it as possible. This way, they can see their son and bury him; he won't end up... He doesn't want to think of where he'd be if this happened in the hospital. He's pretty fucking sure that their baby has more dignity right now, with them, than he'd have anywhere else. They're his parents; they'll make sure that he's respected and loved, the same as when he chaperons one of Beth's field trips. He takes care of the other kids because it's his responsibility, but Beth is the one who matters the most to him, and he'd love and protect her above any of those other kids.

The water drains around her, sort of a pale liquid red, and in it, Quinn sees nothing but death and heartache. She knows that Puck needs to go call his mom and handle things with their baby, but she doesn't want him to leave her, and she clings tighter to him.

He understands that, because he doesn't want to let her go, either. "Just let me go for a minute, baby," he murmurs, kissing her hair. "I just need to grab the phone and I'll come _right_ back and call her in here. I won't leave you... and she has a key, so she can just... come in." He kisses her hair again. "Please, baby. I need to do this, to take care of our family, and I want her to check you out and make sure your body's okay. I don't wanna lose you, too."

Quinn nods, finally letting him go. His plea to let him take care of their family, and make sure she's all right get through to her more than anything, and she hugs her arms around herself as fresh, warm water refills their tub. She can't even remember if it was her or Puck who turned the water on. She's crying so hard, clutching her arms around her chest, wishing that she'd never asked Puck to get his vasectomy reversed. Things were so perfect, the two of them and Beth, and they were happy. She'd wanted more. Why couldn't she have just been content? She begged for one more thing when things were already good. And now, everything was falling apart... Already _had_ fallen apart.

This isn't it. This will leave them brokenhearted for sure, but the thing about hearts is that they can mend. They have to, because they have family and friends who have watched them grow over the past six years - since the beginning of Glee, since Babygate - and they have Beth. There's going to be grief and crying and questions and explanations, but they have Beth, and they need to pull it together and be whole parents for her. She probably won't get it. She might understand in what little way she comprehends death at five years old, but she won't understand the magnitude of their family's loss.

But this isn't it. It doesn't end here. He didn't go through the waiting and the cost and the flat-out _pain_ of the reversal and the subsequent of recovery just to try and try and try, finally learn during Hanukkah that their trying had finally worked, only to lose their son and call it quits. He's torn between wanting to try again, immediately - as soon as her body is capable, as soon as they find out what happened and why she went into labor so early, so that it never happens again - to fill this gaping hole with something beautiful again, something_ living_, the Someone who's been missing from their family for a year. They have a daughter they love every day and they have a son they'll never forget, but they won't know how much is enough until they experience it and feel it. He's torn between starting again, quicklysoquickly, searching for wholeness, and between waiting out of fear and the emotional pain that seeing her pregnant again will bring. He'll stroke her belly and wonder if their baby will be safe. That hadn't been a fear for him with their son, and it had happened regardless.

Quinn's eyes are squeezed shut, so she can't see Puck leave the room... and so she can't see their baby boy lying there... already gone. She concentrates on the warm water around her until she hears Puck's footsteps again.

He hurries to the bedroom, grabbing the phone from the dresser and hurrying back to the bathroom. Quinn is in there, with their son, and he drops to his knees beside them both and reaches for Quinn's hand with one of his own, shifting the phone to his other and hitting **Redial**.

His mother knows why he's calling; she'd spent the time between his calls gathering a bag for them of things she knew they'd need. _I'll be over in __a few minutes. I have my key_, she tells him gently. _Keep her in the bathtub and let me know if she passes any clots bigger than her hand - not your hand, hers. Change the w__ater as much as you need to._ He nods, squeezing Quinn's hand; he glances at her belly. It already looks deflated, and he swallows. He _hates_ this.

He sits with them until he hears the door open; she calls their names softly as she heads up the stairs with soft footfalls, carrying a full bag. _I stopped at work_, she explains softly, _and I brought some things_. Things like a squirt bottle for Quinn, and pads-slash-ice packs that would soothe her if she was swollen. If they can minimize the physical pain, they can better deal with the emotional pain. The Chux pads are for Quinn, for their bed and for her to use wherever she sits if she needs them, and there is even a sheet of medical letterhead. _I want to document_, she explains, her eyes even bearing sorrow. _I want this to be easier for you, since you didn't go into __the hospital_. Puck scrolls through Quinn's phone one-handed, finding her calls to him, to her OB-GYN, and to _Bubbeh_, that can all set a timeline for what had occurred. It seems so real, detailed in his mother's neat handwriting. _I'__ll take some pictures of him_, she lifts her camera from the bag, _and attach them to this. You should go in for an ultrasound, __Quinn. Everything looks okay_, she's not in shock and not pouring blood or vomiting, _but you want to make sure you __don't have anything left tha__t could cause an infection_. Leaning close, she gently touches Quinn's shoulder and kisses her forehead. Sometimes, it takes a tragedy to bring a family closer together, or together at all. _I'm sorry. I'm here if you need an__ything_.

Quinn is somewhat comforted by how Puck's mother handles everything. She knows that this is hard for everyone: herself, Puck, his mother... It's going to be hard for Beth, though Quinn's not sure how much she'll understand. But she's glad Puck's mom is taking pictures so that the doctors can't take their son from them.

Looking up at Puck, a thought hits her that is almost strange, but it's suddenly more important to her than anything else in this moment. "N... Noah, he needs..." she pauses, catching her breath as the hysterical crying slows a little. "He needs a name..."

His mother quietly slips into the background as Puck's arms shift to fully embrace Quinn, as much as he can, and he moves to sit on the edge of the bathtub and pulls her into his arms, letting her cry. He's never seen her cry this way before. He understands why it's happening, and even he cries. It's all that they can do, because everything else is out of their control. Her breath catches in her throat as she struggles to stop crying enough to speak, and she finally succeeds. _A name_.

She and Puck have looked at lists of names since they found out she was pregnant. In fact, the day after, Puck had showed up at the house with a baby name book. Quinn's heart aches remembering how excited he'd looked that day. But they'd looked through the book at hundreds of names. Boys' names, and girls' names. Joshua. Nathanael. Caleb. Levi... All these strong Hebrew names that mean so much to both of them now that they share Judaism as their faith. But none of them work or fit. Quinn looks down at their tiny son, and he isn't a Joshua, or a Levi... But he needs a name.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

quinnfabrayxxx**, thank you so much for your compliments! We've both been writing for awhile but this is really our first foray into something this la****rge and complex, and we're eager to see how this will end… eventually.**

BritBrat1992**, thank you for sticking with us throughout this story. We hope to do the situation justice and convey their emotions adequately.**

Fee1993**, ****thank you so much. Hopefully, the remainder of our story will live up to your expectations.**

Michaela**, thank you very much for your review. We're doing our best to update without overwhelming our readers. **

**Thank you to all of our readers and those who have put us on Favorites or on Alert. **

_**Beth Smith**_** and **_**tinkerbellbones**_


	8. And I Don't Know How I Can Do Without

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Eight

"And I Don't Know How I Can Do Without"

* * *

_She and Puck have looked at lists of names since they found out she was pregnant. In fact, the day after, Puck had showed up at the house with a baby name book. Quinn's heart aches remembering how excited he'd looked that day. But they'd looked through the book at hundreds of names. Boys' names, and girls' names. Joshua. Nathanael. Caleb. Levi... All these strong Hebrew names that mean so much to both of them now that they share Judaism as their faith. But none of them work or fit. Quinn looks down at their tiny son, and he isn't a Joshua, or a Levi... But he needs a name._

Traditionally, he wouldn't have a name until his eighth day of life, and it would be announced during his _brit milah_. But there won't even be a first day of life and there won't be a _brit_ and it's up to them to decide what their son will be called, because he's their son and he deserves a name. Even before Beth was born, she had a name. They owe their son the same.

They both turn to gaze at him against the soft fiber of the towel, lying still and tiny._ This isn't happening, _he thinks, and has to resist the urge to heave; he swallows and hugs Quinn more tightly. He sits in stunned silence, his mind devoid of thought other than their immeasurable grief.

His mother speaks up from the corner of the room, her voice soft but steady. _Why don't you take a shower_, because even he's streaked with a little blood, and Quinn clings to him as though she'll drift away without him, and the water's still red, _and I'll handle things in here. I'll clean up in here, and then take him downstairs and wash him. Did you make his blanket?_ she asks, carefully lifting the yellow crochet. Puck nods, pressing a kiss to Quinn's forehead. _Noah, would you mind if I cut his cord, or would you like to do it_?He glances at Quinn, his gaze suddenly panicked.

Puck's mother asks if Quinn made the blanket, and she nods, eyes squeezed shut with another flood of emotion. Puck's lips are gentle on her forehead, and she holds tight to him. She'd worked so hard learning how to crochet so that she could have the satisfaction of wrapping their baby in it when it was done and the baby was born. The living, beautiful baby she'd expected, that is - not the still, lifeless son she'd given birth to. When _Bubbeh_ asks if he wants to cut the cord, and he looks at Quinn as if wanting her to help him make the call.

This is the first time in this whole thing he's stopped being the strong one, and Quinn feels like he deserves for her to be strong with him, at least for this moment. She presses her palm softly to his face and nods. "Do what you need to do, baby," she says, letting him know that, no matter which he chooses, she is here with him, on his side.

He doesn't know what to do. Part of him wants to stand with Quinn in the steaming shower and hold her, focusing on just her until they're both ready to face their lives again. He hadn't given any thought to who would cut the cord or that it even needed to be cut. He hadn't cut Beth's. The detail had escaped him in the chaos of the day. His mother is the nurse, and she could do it - but the other part of him stands strong, wanting to be a man, to be a father, because all of those baby and pregnancy and labor shows he'd watched showed the father smiling and holding the surgical scissors. He turns his head, pressing a gentle kiss to his wife's palm. "I'll do it," he tells his mother, his voice raw.

She hands him the surgical scissors she pulls from her bag; he remembers them from when he was young, at home. Those were her scissors, and he wasn't allowed to touch them. Now, she offers them to him, carefully pointing to the ideal cutting area. _Snip_. It's harder than cutting paper but easier than cutting through a thicker cord, he imagines, and the cord that connects their son to that which had sustained him separates. He swallows again, returning the scissors numbly to his mother.

_I'll take care of him_, she reassures Puck, who hugs Quinn to his chest_. I'll clean up in here and take care of him. I'll get you each a change of clothes. Laundry_? she asks. "Playroom," he answers, turning his head to press his face into Quinn's hair before he carefully shifts her. "Shower, baby." He hates using that word right now, but it sneaks out as habit; he doesn't know what else to call her. Dressed only in soaked shorts, he releases his hold on her long enough to step into the bathtub, glancing at his wife before easing the shower curtain closed.

Quinn clings to Puck as she tries to stand up again. She won't feel clean until she's stood up and showered, but she's so weak. She doesn't feel like she'll be able to stand for long without Puck's help. As she slowly gets to her feet, she wraps her arms around Puck's neck and more or less collapses against him, a fresh wave of tears taking over, streaming down her face anew. She just stands there, clinging to him and letting him hold her. She feels so guilty... like this is all her fault, even though she knows that things like this happen. But things like this happening have never had anything to do with her or her baby boy.

His arms around her ribs, gentle and strong, help her to stand. Scarlet swirls around her ankles in the draining water, and her weight is heavy against his arms, his chest, her head pressed against him as she cries. She's full of tears, tears mixing with the water cascading down around them and splashing into the bottom of the bathtub. This is the weakest they've ever been, even together. He doesn't think of their daughter. She's safe.

Her sobs slow as he rubs her back, both of them standing in the warm water. The pink tint to the water doesn't seem to startle her, even if he's unused to witnessing it to that degree. The aftermath of Beth's birth had been no different in that respect, but he'd gone to Santana after signing his name to the papers, fleeing, unwilling to watch his daughter cease to be _his_. She pulls away only slightly to wash her hair, Puck managing the shampoo and conditioner [she uses his; it's 2-in-1 because he's lazy like that and how much fuss do you need to make over a mohawk, anyway?] and keeping arms wrapped loosely around her waist after he returns the bottle to the shelf. He doesn't want to stop touching her, doesn't want to be far from her. He clings to her because they both need it right now, and he's never felt so helpless in his life.

The warm water washes over them, and with what little energy she has, Quinn washes her hair, before resting against Puck's chest again to let the water wash the shampoo away. As they finish up their shower, she speaks up. "He needs a name," she says again. It's all she can focus on. She's not sure why. Of all the things to be concerned with right now... It shouldn't be that. But it is so important to her.

"Quinn," he murmurs, cradling his wife against his chest and stroking his fingers through her hair to wash away the shampoo she'd missed, "I can't think right now. I know you wanna come up with a name, and we will. I want it, too, but... I can't think right now. This is a lot. I swear, we can go in bed after and talk about this, maybe use our book, but I can't do this right now. I just need to hold you right now and be with you... please?"

Quinn stands there in Puck's arms as he helps her wash her hair. She's thankful for the fact that he never lets their bodies lose contact. She needs that right now, needs his touch to remind her that she's not alone. She doesn't have to mourn the loss of her baby alone, because he's Puck's son, too. She has Puck here with her, and he's not leaving. The old Puck, the one who left when things got hard, or turned to Santana? That Puck is gone. In his place is a man - a real man who is strong and brave for her when she can't be, a man who won't leave her when the whole world is falling apart around her. She can cry, and fall apart, and even though he's obviously aching inside, he's strong for her.

As they stand in the shower, the water sluicing over their bodies, his mother cleans the bathroom and bedroom, tossing the soiled bed linens, clothing and towels into the hamper, to be brought to the washing machine in the basement. The towel and baby she places carefully on his parents' bed, knowing no better place to rest him while she cleans and his parents weep. The bathroom is silently left as clean as it was before the day began, clean clothes left for both Puck and Quinn, and a small bundle of postpartum items with Quinn's pile. The bed is freshly made with old sheets and a faded comforter, sandwiched with Chux pads and topped with another comforter. Grief may make their bed their only safe place until they feel that they can face the world.

Mrs. Puckerman takes photos, placing the surgical scissors near the break in the cord to make it clear that it had been cut rather than torn, saving them to her memory card to print later. Returning her camera to her bag, she carefully runs a small basin of warm water, cradling her tiny grandchild in her palm and shifting the water in the basin to gently wash him. The placenta is rinsed and placed into a small bag for examination should Dr. Wu need it, placed inside a brown paper bag marked with his name and laid flat in the refrigerator. She folds Quinn's yellow blanket into a small triangle, wrapping the baby inside. The laundry is started, a pot of coffee prepared, ibuprofen and Tylenol PM set on the kitchen countertop with the cell phone [Puck's] she'd found on the kitchen floor. Everything in the house is as it should be, except for the silence and empty shudders of breath.

As they stand in the shower, Quinn nods once and gives her husband the one thing he's asked her for in this whole thing. She's begged and pleaded with him over and over for what seems like a million different things, but he's asked her for one, to give him time. So she does, burying her face in his strong shoulder as she cries more and more tears. She marvels at the fact that she has any tears left to cry at this point, but they just keep coming.

His arms are heavy around her waist, and she's glad, because she doesn't have anything left. Not even the strength to hold herself up.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

lilypilots90**, thank you so much for your compliment! It's great to hear feedback, letting us know what we're doing right, and where ****we could improve if necessary. We weren't certain if this subject matter would be well-received, but we hope that we're doing it justice.**

Written-in-hearts**, thank you so much for taking the time to review! We've already written a considerable amount of it**** and we're in the process of writing even more. We're doing our ****best to release chapters every few days so as not to overwhelm anybody and to give us time to write more - it's always frustrating when an author is writing a wonderful story and hits the infa****mous writer's block, and you're left wondering what happens next. We hope to avoid that by writing and posting this way.**

BritBrat1992**, you are amazing! Thank you so much for keeping up with us. ****We've written a considerable amount beyond what we've already posted, and we just included another character and guest writer in a portion we're finishing; we hope to "see" them in the not-too-distant future, and we hope that you enjoy that as well.**

lucklessforhim**, thank you so much! We're both new to ****writing for our respective characters, and we write from their perspective and then edit it together to become a smoother story format. We each have something unique to bring to the table when it comes to writing for Quinn and Puck, and we're glad that the**** differences in the characters are visible to others as well as ourselves. We're glad that you are enjoying the story despite the subject matter. **

dancingdreamers**, we're so glad that you've found us! The detail is absolutely a dual-edged sword when it comes to writing, but - as you wrote - the experience is there, and we're able to write it sincerely rather than making up implausible details. We began writing this story because we, too, fell in love with the family we'd created through our writing in ****other areas, and we're glad that others enjoy reading it as much as we enjoy writing it.**


	9. Tracing Her Years with Her Fingers

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Nine

"Tracing Her Years With Her Fingers"

* * *

_His arms are heavy around her waist, and she's glad, because she doesn't have anything __left... Not even the strength to hold herself up._

The only thing he ever wants, ever needs, is time. His biggest failing isn't that he loves Quinn above all else, or that he's still in so many ways just a kid doing his best to be a man. It's that change, whether good or bad, forces him to adjust, to reevaluate. He doesn't accept change well immediately, but grows to embrace it - or, at least, deal with it - over time. When she'd mentioned marriage to him a year ago, around their fourth anniversary together, he had balked, quietly asking her for time to think, to consider, to evaluate. He had done the same thing when she suggested that their family might not be complete just yet. With both changes, he had taken his time, mulling them over, thinking of how his decision - their decision - would impact their family and the security and happiness they had. He hadn't regretted either decision for an instant.

She gives him time now, nodding and hugging her husband more tightly, lowering her head to his collarbone and sobbing once more. They stand there for so long, so, so long, and the water bill will probably be obscene. But they've paid off the vasectomy and they've paid off the vacation and what little they spent for the wedding, because he works as much as he can and they manage their money wisely. They can financially weather this storm, even if he's out of work for a week recovering.

She doesn't know how long she's been standing there... Honestly, she has no idea what time it is, or even if it's the same day. It seems to have gone on forever... It feels like she and Puck aged 10 years in this one (she thinks it was one) day. And then the water starts to go cold, and she turns bloodshot hazel eyes on her husband. "We... We should lie down..."

When the hot water runs out [or somebody flushed], she tilts her head, gazing up at him. They both look the same, eyes bloodshot and swollen, faces puffy from crying. "Come on," he murmurs, reaching out to pull her against his body once more as one hand turns the shower to the **OF****F** position, "we'll go get in bed... call Mom up and have her come talk to us." Pushing the shower curtain aside, they view the cleaned bathroom, the piles of clothing, and nothing obvious to indicate what had taken place. "You first," he tells her, reaching for the postpartum ice pack pad and her underwear, gauging the packet and pressing it into place as he kneels at her feet to assist her. When she's dressed, he'll throw his clothes on quickly and lead her to their bedroom.

Puck does everything to take care of her... She feels numb, and only flashes of pain interrupt the numbness, but Puck is good. Puck is the only good thing she has right now, in this moment. Puck and Beth are all she has left, and she knows that she can't quit fighting, if only for their sakes.

"Baby," she says softly to Puck, once he's more or less dressed her in her pajamas. "I want to tell Beth goodnight..." She looks at the clock. It's evening now. Beth'll be getting ready for bed before too much longer, and Quinn has never once gone a night without saying goodnight to their daughter, not since she was born, not even when she and Puck were on their honeymoon. She doesn't want that to change. She's not prepared to let this loss rob her of that.

She stands in front of him, warm and cozy in worn pajamas, her bottom half padded like a sumo wrestler's. This is his first postpartum experience; if he gets a chance at a second one, he hopes that it's a hell of a lot better than this. It's messy and painful and he's never been fucking happier that he's a man. He's pretty sure he's never loved Quinn more than he does in this moment, when they stand together and he distractedly puts on his pajamas, putting both feet in the same leg of his sweatpants and nearly falling over as he quickly realizes his mistake. When she speaks, his head is stuck in his shirt; he yanks the shirt down quickly to look at her. "You wanna call Beth?" he asks before smiling weakly at the mention of their daughter, their girl, so strong and so _them_. Even in the pain of today, they still have Beth. He glances around the bathroom - _all set_ - wrapping his arm around Quinn's waist. Her belly is flaccid, and he tries to keep his hands away. He can't bring himself to touch it just yet, even inadvertently.

Leaning on him carefully, Quinn makes her way to their bed, lying down on top of the protective covering Puck's mother made for the mattress. Her hands rest on her stomach, and she looks down. Yet another wave of tears hits as she sees her stomach, more or less flat... like it was before she began to show. She can't do this. Everything makes her cry, and she just can't figure out what the hell to do. Except that she knows she has to pull it together and call Beth. She'd worried for a moment that he wouldn't think she could handle it. Maybe, in a way, she couldn't. But Beth is the best part of them, and Quinn can't imagine going to bed tonight without saying "Good night" to her daughter. Still, she's not ready for him to leave her. But given the alternative of waiting on her phone to charge, and knowing that, by the time it does, it'll be too late to call, because Beth will be in bed? Well, that's what makes her decision for her.

As they walk from the bathroom to the bedroom, his gaze sweeps the room from side to side; he hadn't seen Quinn's phone in the bathroom, and they'd need it to call Beth. It rests on the nightstand, and he helps her onto the bed before grabbing it.

Dead battery.

"I gotta plug this in," he murmurs, leaning over her apologetically to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "My phone's downstairs. You gonna be okay up here while I go get it? I can ask Mom to come up. She might want you eat something... you know, blood loss and shit." Taking a deep breath, he adds, "I don't wanna leave you, but... I wanna make sure Beth's okay with your mom." It's not that he doesn't trust Judy Fabray - he does, especially now - but with the loss of their son, he just wants to keep Beth close and protect her from anything out there that could hurt or harm her.

"I'll be right back, sweetheart," he murmurs, needing to be as affectionate and loving as possible right now - for his own sake as well as for hers. "I'll grab the phone and bring Mom upstairs. I'd carry you down but you're too damn pale." She nods, sending him on his way; he presses another kiss to her forehead, caresses her cheek, and sets off on a quick walk out of the room and down the stairs.

She lets him go despite the burning emptiness she feels when he disappears out of her line of vision. She can't be without him for long, not right now. It hurts too much, and she hates it. Quinn is fiercely independent at her best, but this? This is nowhere near her best. In fact, it may be her very worst. She has no strength left at all. Physically, emotionally, mentally, she is drained.

Puck is her strength. Puck and Beth and the fact that their family can't die just because their son has. She wants to curl up in bed and sleep for a million years, until the apocalypse [if Jews believe in the apocalypse, which she doesn't think they do - she's still learning].

She hugs a pillow tight for comfort as she waits for Puck to return.

He finds his mother in the kitchen, washing dishes. The washing machine is whirring, and a wicker basket rests on a kitchen chair, filled with a fluffy yellow blanket; he doesn't look. "We're gonna call Beth," he tells her, his voice heavy as he spots his phone on the countertop, along with the plastic containers of medication and the steaming coffeemaker. He silently takes the medication and his phone, swiping one of Beth's juice boxes from the refrigerator [the remainder of the tray he'd fixed earlier is still upstairs, in the bedroom], and nods at nobody. "Can you come upstairs," he asks the floor, studying the press of his bare feet on the tile. "She's pale, and I just... need to know she's okay." _Of course I will_, she answers, drying her hands with a kitchen towel before resting a hesitant hand on the chair supporting the basket. _He's ready, if you'd like to hold him or spend some time with him. I don't know what you'd like to do with him, but it should be done within the next day or so. I can call Rabbi Gree__nberg and talk to him about_ bikkur holim [A/N: a Jewish guideline, meaning to visit the sick] _and burial, if you and Quinn want. It would help_, she adds quietly, _so you don't have to explain anything when you come back to temple, and if__ you'd like him to be buried_.

He swallows again, fingers tightening around his phone. "I'll ask Quinn. I don't know if she's ready for - all of that. _Shmirah_ [A/N: the Jewish custom, meaning to attend to the deceased and remain with him or her at all times, until burial], like with Nana Connie. Put some ice packs under the blanket to keep him cool and bring him upstairs. I'll help her..." While she'd known about his _shmirah_ duties, taking turns with his family members to attend her from her death until her burial, she hadn't participated; she'd remained home with Beth. This will be the first _shmirah_ where they wear black ribbons over their hearts and they link fingers in bed and cry themselves to sleep.

He turns to leave and walks upstairs, with medication, phone, and juice clutched in his shaking hands.

Quinn's grateful when he comes back. He was only gone five minutes or so, but it seems like it was forever. She can't make heads or tails of anything, but she knows that Puck is here. He is strong, steady, everything that she isn't, and everything that he never used to be. He looks like he's coming to take care of a sick Beth, with the meds and the juice box, and it would almost be funny if it weren't for how very far from funny this whole situation was. She wonders for a moment about their baby, but she knows that Puck's mom is taking care of him, inasmuch as someone who isn't alive can be taken care of.

Rolling over in bed, just a little, and slowly, because she's still sore and weak, she holds out her hand to him. She wants him holding her. They've gone long enough without contact. It's as if she needs to touch him to know that she's living real life right now.

She extends her hand; he deposits his burden on the mattress and takes her hand as he climbs up to join her, instantly wrapping his arms around her. "Mom will be up in a few," he whispers into her damp and tangled hair, pulling her against his chest. "I got the phone, juice for you. Motrin for you and Tylenol PM for both of us." The things he'd discussed downstairs with his mother can wait for now; he kisses her forehead, murmuring, "I love you so much. I'm never gonna leave you, ever. You're my wife... you're never gonna be alone."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

BritBrat1992**, thank you again for keeping up with us. We hope that the chapters will become gradually lighter in tone****; it seems like we're accomplishing that goal with our recent writing.**

Written-in-hearts**, everything will end well for them. I'm not certain if it will "end" in this story or if there will be a sequel, but there will be a happy ending down the road. Thank you so much!**

lilypilots90**, ****thank you so much for letting us know what we're doing well! As we've said, we write from some level of experience, ****and we do our best to convey that experience through the words, thoughts, and actions of Puck and Quinn. **

I love you Roza**, thank you so much - here you go!**

finchelquickftw**, thank you so much for the compliment! While not many people seem to be interested in angst, ****sadly nobody's lives are as perfect as the ones contrived in fanfiction. We hope that this serves as another side to Puck and Quinn. **


	10. My Stubborn Will is Learning to Bend

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Ten

"My Stubborn Will is Learning to Bend"

* * *

_She extends her hand; he deposits his burden on the mattress and takes her hand as he climbs up to join her, instantly wrapping his arms around her. "Mom will be up in a few," he whispers into her damp and tangled hair, pulling her against his chest. "I got the phone, juice for you. Motrin for you and Tylenol PM for both of us." The things he'd discussed downstairs with his mother can wait for now; he kisses her forehead, murmuring, "I love you so much. I'm never gonna leave you, ever. You're my wife... you're never gonna be alone."_

Quinn's head presses against the solidity of his chest, and it feels so right being here with him after everything that happened today. Nothing about this day has been good, except the fact that Quinn Puckerman has a wonderful husband who loves her, even throughout the hardest times she's ever been forced to experience. She feels safe and protected with his arms surrounding her, more than she ever feels without them.

"I love you," she chokes, clinging to him for a moment, before moving away from him and forcing herself to compose a little. She reaches out to take Puck's working phone, dialing her mom's phone number. Judy answers, and Quinn has to explain what had happened, hurriedly assuring her mom that she is physically okay, and that Puck's mom is taking care of her. Judy is relieved - brokenhearted, but relieved. "Mom," Quinn finally says, "I... can we talk to Beth?"

Her husband's heart breaks even more as he listens to her speak. It makes sense that Quinn would handle her mother, and he knows that they [well, Quinn], made the right decision in wanting to tell Beth what had happened. Beth's his daughter. She notices everything and she's fiercely protective of Quinn. Nana Connie had died a little more than a year earlier, around the Hanukkah when Beth was four, and she'd participated in _shivah_ [A/N: the Jewish period of mourning] and at _yahrzeit_[A/N: the Jewish recognition of the anniversary of the death] to the extent that was appropriate. She was young and a great-granddaughter, but still part of Nana Connie's closest family. Now, she's one of the seven immediate relations to their baby, and, depending on what the rabbi deems appropriate, she'll be welcome to participate. He holds Quinn as close as possible as she and Beth speak.

Judy puts Beth on the phone, and Quinn fights back tears as she speaks. "Hi, baby. Did you have fun with Uncle Kurt? And Grandma Judy?"

Beth prattles on a little bit about Princess Time with Uncle Kurt, and what Grandma Judy made for dinner, and Quinn listens quietly, like a good mother would. When Beth slows down, Quinn knows that she needs to tell her what happened. She can't have her come home and realize that Puck and Quinn are sad and that Mommy's belly is gone, and not understand why.

Forcing the words past the lump in her throat, she says softly, "Beth, there's something Mommy needs to tell you, okay? The baby... in Mommy's belly... well, he went to be with Nana Connie, okay? And Mommy and Daddy are very sad right now, because we wanted the baby to be with our family..." Tears flow freely down her cheeks as she assures Beth that Mommy and Daddy love her, and are very happy they have her, and when Beth wants to know if Mommy's belly is still okay, Quinn promises that it is. "Mommy is going to be just fine, baby girl. I love you... I'm gonna let you talk to Daddy now. Goodnight, sweetie."

When she presses the phone into his palm, her face streaked with tears and voice soft with sobs, he holds her even more tightly. He can press her flush against him, now, because there's no firm bulge to separate them. "Hey, Bee," he murmurs into the phone, a faint smile crossing his lips at the sound of her voice. Their daughter even sounds sad, after the conversation with Quinn. He doesn't envy Judy right now, because she'll have to comfort Beth and reassure her that everything will be fine in the end. "We love you, okay? We're just really sad right now and we're doing some grown-up stuff and we have to talk to Rabbi Greenberg, and we can't do a lot of playing right now. But Grandma Judy said she'd play with you and you can be as loud as you wanna be and chase all the monsters you wanna chase at her house. I don't know how long you're gonna stay there, baby. Tonight and maybe tomorrow night, but if you want me to get some of your toys and your KISS pajamas and bring them to you, I can do that or _Bubbeh_ can do it. We're gonna be here, baby. If you wanna talk to us, just tell Grandma Judy. You can call us anytime, Bee. We love you, baby. We're always gonna love you, even when we're sad, and you're always gonna be special to me and Mommy. We're just sad, like we were sad when Nana Connie went away. The baby went to be with Nana Connie, so she wouldn't be alone... and because _Avinu_ [A/N: Jewish aspect of God meaning "our father"] knew that Mommy and Daddy needed you to stay with us." _There_, he thinks to himself. _Now she won't think that she n__eeds to go with Nana Connie._ "We love you, baby. And we'll see you soon. I need to take care of Mommy right now, okay? Bubbeh's with us and she's taking care of me, because she's _my_mommy. You can talk to us whenever you want, okay? And we'll try and see you tomorrow. Tell Grandma Judy what you want us to bring for you and I'll call her tomorrow." He makes a few soft kiss noises into the phone. "I love you, baby." Tears stream down his face, dripping onto the pillow as he cuddles Quinn closer. "I'm gonna go now, okay? Go to sleep, and be a good listener for Grandma. Okay, Bee. I love you, too." He swallows as he ends the call, reaching behind Quinn to deposit the phone on the nightstand. "That was so hard," he whispers into Quinn's hair.

Quinn nods. It was probably the hardest thing they'd ever done, short of what they'd done earlier that day. The tears stream down their faces, soaking the pillow until it's not clear whose tears are whose anymore. She clings to him, her head tucked into the hollow of his neck. It's how they always hold each other when they feel like this - lost, alone, and unsure.

The soft knock on the door tells them that Puck's mom is there, and Quinn's eyes dart to the door. "Come in, _Bubbeh_," she says, her voice choked.

_I wanted to come__ up and check on you, Quinn,_ she says. She had heard their explanations to Beth, and she's pretty sure they couldn't have explained it any better. _How do y__ou feel? Physically, I mean.__  
_  
"Weak - and exhausted." She's still crying. "My stomach hurts, and..." She cuddles closer to Puck. "Thank you for coming to help us..." she says quietly.

_It's fine, Quinn. Thank you for calling me_, Puck's mother tells her gently, her hands moving slowly to rest with one on Quinn's hair and the other at the back of her son's neck._ I don't know if Noah told you, but I took care of everything downstairs. You don't have to worry about anything, and I can stay tonight if you want me to. I took care of him, and I'll call Rabbi Greenberg and Dr. Wu's office if you'd like me to. There's _shmirah_, and I can be his shomer__et_ [A/N: the guardian in a _shmirah_, _shomer_ for a male and _shomeret_ for a female] _if you don't think you can. I don't know what the rabbi will do, but he knows how much you both wanted this baby. He's as real as Beth is_. Like Judy had done a year earlier, she'll stand up for her children in matters of religion and justice. She can see how it's utterly breaking their hearts; they've gone through so much to have this baby and it's ended in so much sorrow.

Looking back at Puck, she says softly, "Can... can we name him now?" she doesn't want to push him, and God knows she'd die if she pushed him too hard and he pulled away. But after 5 years, he never has. And she needs him now more than ever.

Puck nods, kissing Quinn's forehead gently. "I'll rub your belly... my love... like I used to, if you want," he whispers against her skin before she pulls away to gaze up at him with wet eyes. "I want to name him. Mom, could you... bring him up to us?" His hand carefully rubs his wife's back. "We can be _shomer_. He should stay with us, he's our baby, and it's probably not gonna be - traditional or anything. But could you... handle everything? Dr. Wu, the rabbi? We want to bury him. Jewish if we can, but he stays in the blanket." Although tradition would dictate a _tachrichim_, a white burial shroud, he's only a baby, and he's staying in the blanket that his mother made for him. "And the Berrys." He kisses his wife's forehead once more. "I'll get the name book, Quinny. We'll do this the right way."

Quinn's afraid. Afraid of how much it's going to hurt to see her baby wrapped in the blanket she made him. She'd had so many grand ideas of seeing her tiny baby, beautiful and safe, wrapped in that blanket and safe in her arms. And that wasn't how it was going to go at all. She was at a loss for words, but her eyes told Puck's mother how very thankful she was for her help. Remembering well how Puck used to rub her belly with stretch mark reducing lotion, Quinn nods. "It... It'll feel weird," she says softly. At least, it had felt weird after Beth was born. She'd like it if he rubbed her belly, but she still feels weird about it... self-conscious about how it feels.

Puck rises to grab the book from their bookshelf, and Quinn's body literally aches from the loss of contact. She wants him touching her all the time, so she can feel that he's still there. It sounds strange, but when she's not touching him, it's like he's not there.

Puck's mom is back at the door soon with a wicker basket. Quinn recognizes the soft yellow of the blanket she'd made, but she doesn't see the baby yet, and she's nervous - no - not nervous - terrified. Involuntarily, she shuts her eyes, and holds her hand out to Puck. She doesn't want to see him until Puck is holding her again.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

BritBrat1992 **and **quinnfabrayxxx**, thank you! We're so glad that you ****continue to follow us and let us know that you think we're moving in the right direction with our story. We hope that you continue to enjoy it, and that the eventual ending will be just as pleasing.**

Written-in-hearts**, ****for some reason, we tend to have an easier time writing angst and emotion. [We still haven't decided if this is good or bad.] The emotion will lighten and we have something different in mind that we're beginning to write, but it's definitely quite a few chapters away. Thank you so much for taking the time to let us know what you think.**

finchelquickftw**, thank you for continuing to follow us! We do our best to write a kind of story that we'd fol****low if we were the readers, and, while we feel good about what we've written, it's reassuring that others feel the same. **

lucklessforhim**, thank you so much for your compliments! ****It's always a bit difficult to write from a man's point of view when the writer is a woman, so we're glad that we're doing a believable job of it. It's perfectly fine to ask any question you'd like - ****and, ****yes, Puck's writer is Jewish. We do a fair amount of web-searching for spellings and to ensure that we're accurate on the definitions so that we can explain it ****to our readers. We hope that you continue to enjoy our story.**


	11. And Its Heart So Savage

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Eleven

"And Its Heart So Savage"

* * *

_Puck's mom is back at the door soon with a wicker basket. Quinn recognizes the soft yellow of the blanket she'd made, but she doesn't see the baby yet, and she's nervous - no - not nervous - terrified. Involuntarily, she shuts her eyes, and holds her hand out to Puck. She doesn't want to see him until Puck is holding her again._

They keep a fairly neat bookshelf. One shelf contains Quinn's study books for her Jew Lessons, the children's prayer book for Beth and the Shabbat book for all of them to use. Another shelf contains the hollow copy of Harry Potter that holds a small amount of Chronic Lady. [Don't ask. He knows nothing.] The middle shelf holds all of their starting-a-badass-Jewish-family books, including Quinn's pregnancy journal. He plucks The Book of Hebrew Baby Names from the shelf and carries it to the bed, his mother's footfalls sounding in the hallway as she steadily carries the wicker basket through the door.

"Thanks, Mom," he murmurs, gazing at his wife and reaching out to link their fingers together. Climbing onto the bed, he settles behind her, wrapping his arm around her ribs and resting his head against hers. He leaves the book on the mattress in front of her; they can skim through it as they embrace. "I don't know... _Ahuvati_, my love... his basket, wherever you want." He feels especially tender with Quinn in these moments, in this day. His go-to term of affection for her is _baby_, or _babe_, and the thought of that word brings only one baby to mind. He can't bring himself to call her his baby right now, but she is the woman he loves, and she always will be. Regardless of whatever will happen within the next few days and despite his mother's presence, this is happening to the two of them. They've longed for this child and finally created this child, only to lose him. Nobody else will feel this same sorrow, and he clings to her both physically and emotionally. They have grown so much in the past five years they've spent together as a family, and he's turned into the husband and father he'd never thought he could be.

She lies cuddled in his arms, looking at the book. They would've found out soon that they were having a son, at least, if they'd decided they wanted to. And they would've started really focusing on a name. But now, after everything has changed, he just needs a name to be buried with, just like his blanket.

"I..." She swallows hard, looking at Puck. "I want to hold him." Her arms ache to hold her baby, even though he's gone. She wants to tell him that they love him, that they're sorry, all the things any parent would say to their child, combined with the things that that she feels like she should say to her lost son.

She rubs Puck's arm gently as his mother brings the baby over, lifting him out of the basket in the blanket. Quinn watches, shifting so that the other woman can place the baby in the crook of her elbow. It's as if Puck's mother understands totally, and once she makes sure that Quinn is all right, she gives Puck an understanding gaze, and leaves them with their son.

_I want to hold him_. It's a good sign, he thinks; he knows Quinn, and that, if she didn't hold him, bond with him, because he'll be buried within the next few days, she'd regret it and never be able to get that chance again. Holding Beth is what convinced her in the end to tear the adoption papers without signing them. "Okay," he whispers, sliding his arm from where it rests around her ribs to lightly drape over her hip, as she shifts upward on the pillow. He keeps his other hand tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, stroking her skin with his thumb. His mother shifts him gently from the basket at the end of the bed, cradling the blanket against her chest for the few moments it takes to lay her grandson in the arms of his mother as she gazes down at him, crying. His own eyes are stinging and glossy with tears, both shed and unshed, and he nods at his mother as she leaves the room [tears drip at the motion to land in Quinn's hair, sparkling like diamonds].

Quinn's eyes are streaming with tears as she looks down at her tiny son in her arms. With her free hand, she grabs Puck's, and holds it tight. "N... Noah..." she whispers, unable to say anything else.

Their fingers entwine in a frantic grasp on her hip; he lightly draws their clasped hands upwards to help cradle the blanket. "He's so tiny, Quinn," he whispers in her ear, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to rid them of pooled tears. "His skin's so... delicate and see-through." He's perfect, even if all they can see right now are his shoulders, neck, and head; the blanket is tucked around him as if to keep him cozy and warm. Tilting his head, he presses his lips to her temple. "We did the right thing, _Ahuvati_. We get to be here, with him, in our own bed. This is home, Quinn. He knew home. He knew us."

Quinn's unsure why he's calling her _Ahuvati_ at first, but then it hits her, what he usually calls her, and she remembers what _Ahuvati_ means... And it fits. She loves Hebrew, and she loves how rich the meanings of the words are. It's another reason that she wants to give their son a Hebrew name. Because she wants his name to mean something special.

Puck is right. He _is_ so very small. He's tiny. But he's perfect - _b__eautiful_. A few months later, and she would've been cradling him in her arms in the hospital, laughing, and smiling, and being excited by his birth. That day will never come now. "I'm sorry, baby..." she says, crying. "I'm sorry we couldn't save you..." The tears just won't stop coming, and her eyes itch and sting, and she's so exhausted. Her hand tangled in Puck's seems to ground her, to hold her in reality.

She holds the baby close to her chest, shifting so that she could look back at Puck. "I'm so sorry..." she chokes, weeping, broken, feeling guilty. It's not her fault, but in the fog of what has happened, she feels as if she caused it somehow.

She weeps, apologizing to their son for something that was out of her control. That's parenthood, they know; for every bruise or skinned knee or hurtful thing said, you want to apologize even if it's not your fault, to kiss it and make it better because your baby is too good to be hurting this way. "Quinn," he murmurs her name softly, turning his head to softly kiss her cheek, her hair, the curve of her ear in a way that is tender, so unlike the way he usually kisses her. "Quinn, it's not..." He trails off, her weeping such that he doesn't know if she's even paying attention as he whispers in her ear. "It happened, and we did the best we could. You were amazing, Quinn. You were so strong, you're being so strong, you were the best mom. We told him we loved him and rubbed your belly and I held you and I caught him, not some doctor. And his _Bubbeh_ took care of him when I was with you. We loved him... we loved him so much, Quinn. Do you remember when you were pregnant with Beth? How you didn't want it to happen, how upset you were and how much we were hurting? You, me, Finn... everything with your mom, how my mom was when you moved in with us, all of it? We loved him so, so much since we found out. I know he knew that. We loved him more and wanted him more than we wanted Beth when you were pregnant with her. We were too young, we were scared. We were ready for him, we wanted him so much. We did the best we could with this. We loved him and we took care of him and we're gonna keep taking care of him." He kisses her lips, softly, as she turns to meet his eyes. "It's not your fault," he repeats in a quiet murmur. "We tried to be the best parents and I _know_ we were. We're holding him now, we're not letting him be alone. And we love him. It's more than most kids get, Quinn... you know that. We did our best."

Puck's words ring true in her ears. He is the best guy she could've ever wished to have as her husband and the father of her children, and she's not sorry that they are together, ever. Even on the worst days when she's tired and irrational, and he's hurt and frustrated, they fight through. They keep going. They don't give up. Right now, she really wants to. But she knows that it's not an option, and she knows that Puck's strength will carry her through when she's weak. And right now, she's so very weak.

She lets go of Puck's hand, but not before making sure it's resting against her side somewhere, because she doesn't want to lose the contact of his hand, and reaches for the baby name book, trying to flip it open. There are pages she's marked with sticky notes with the names she liked, others that she marked with Puck's choices. They hadn't agreed on one yet, for either a boy or a girl, but it hadn't really mattered, because Quinn figured it wasn't that important yet.

Now, it's so important. She won't put him in the ground without a name. "Baby Puckerman" just isn't enough.

He kisses her cheek as he reaches out, holding the book upright as he presses his body against her back. He'll stay close, his chest against her spine, stronger and larger and protective of his family. "Did you like the ones we were talking about?" he asks from memory as he flips, page by page, through the section on Hebrew Names for Baby Boys. "Caleb, Isaac - no, not Isaac." It's translated as _laughter_. Meaning is just as important as sound, something he hadn't entirely considered when suggesting names for Beth. He hates the part of himself that even _suggested_ the name Jackie Daniels. "Is there any one you love that we talked about, that you want for him?" he softly asks. They'll never be able to use that name again. They'll never want to use that name again. "I don't think they're right for him, but I don't know what is."

Quinn shakes her head at the names that are listed. None of them fit. All of them seem too big for their tiny baby boy. Caleb means _bold_, and that doesn't work. There is nothing bold about him. Joshua, Benjamin, none of these names work. She looks at the baby before turning a little so that she can see his father's face. "We should just start flipping through. These don't work, they don't fit him..."

"That's the problem I'm having," he tells her quietly. It's easier to keep the tears at bay when he's focused on a task. "None of the names we liked fit." He watches their son as Quinn focuses on the book, searching through his mind for names he knows. "Not Jacob, it reminds me of JewFro." They'd nixed the girl's name of Rachel for a similar reason; it had reminded them of Berry.

His chest is hard and solid against her back, and Quinn feels like he's a shield between her and the world. No one else can come into their time with their son right now. Puck won't let them. She knows that, and she loves him for it.

She flips back to the beginning of the boy names section and starts tracing the lines with her eyes. _Aaron. No_. She groans, getting frustrated, when her eyes fall on the perfect name. Pointing it out, she looks over her shoulder at Puck. _Tender, delicate, gentle_, the book says, and to Quinn? Nothing could be more perfect for him.

He glances at the book at the motion of her hand, following the line of her finger as it presses to the page. Four letters that will never be used again for the name of a living Puckerman child. Four letters that are exactly their son as is he now, as he'll always be in their minds. _Tender, delicate, gentle_. "That's perfect," he murmurs, pressing his lips once more to her temple. "_Ahuvati_, that's _perfect_. You named our son and you did _awesome_."

Quinn lets the name sink in. Something special, shared between the three of them for now, until they have to tell other people. She whispers to their son softly, calling him by the name, and it feels right on her lips. That tiny name sums up their tiny son perfectly, and though it's only by sheer chance that she found it, Quinn is happy that she can give him this one thing. She couldn't give him safety and life outside of the womb. But she can give him this.

After a moment, she looks at Puck, the full exhaustion of the day hitting her. "I... I need to drink that juice, Puck..." she says, shifting in bed, and shifting the baby's weight in her arms. She nods her still-damp head toward the juice box on Puck's bedside table.

"Do... Do you want to hold him?" she asks, raising her eyes to peer at him from beneath lashes that glisten with tears.

She offers him the opportunity to hold his son, their son, and he doesn't hesitate. "Yes," he answers quietly. "And take the medicine I brought you, but leave one of the blue pills for me. They'll help us sleep." The bundle is small, and he takes it carefully from her arms, cradling it in his own and sitting cross-legged on the bed, tracing the curve of the tiny jaw with his finger. "Hi," he murmurs, his attention on the delicate features that their son has inherited from his mother, he's sure. "_Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheynu melech ha-olam, dayan__ ha-emet. Adonai natan, Adonai lakach, ye-hi shem Adonai me-vo-rach_ [A/N: "Blessed are you, G-D, ruler of the world, the righteous Judge. G-D has given, G-D has taken, blessed be the name of G-D," a traditional prayer of bereavement.]," he whispers, his tears dripping from his cheeks onto the yellow knotted yarn. Focusing on the tradition and on the words is soothing, knowing that they've been repeated by crying men and women for so many lifetimes. Repeating the words means that they're not alone in this sorrow, no matter how alone they feel. As badass as he is, this is a time when sobbing is understandable, and he hugs their son's blanket carefully to his body and weeps for what they've lost.

They sit together on their bed, the bed they'd had since they moved into their home. The bed they've shared with no one but each other. He's also pretty damn convinced that this is where they conceived their son, because it's where they made love after their last-ditch effort to conceive naturally, hoping that the reversal had worked. Two weeks of abstaining for maximum potency because they'd faced four months of negative pregnancy tests [and they're only twenty-two], and then she'd taken a long and luxurious bath as he'd spent some time with Beth before putting her to sleep and arranging everything all romantic and shit in their bedroom [candles, music, freshly-laundered sheets and pillows] and washing up in the downstairs bedroom before waiting for Quinn to come to him. They'd learned during Hanukkah, the time of gift-giving and family, that they'd be adding to theirs, that they'd finally gotten the only gift they'd wanted.

Following her husband's directions, Quinn find the pills he brought up with him, and swallows them down with the juice, leaving one of the blue pills behind for him. He recites the Hebrew prayer, and Quinn doesn't remember what it means exactly, but she knows one thing: it means that they are saying farewell to their son in the traditional Jewish way. The woman is grateful that, though Puck wasn't the most attentive student in high school, he'd learned quite a bit of Hebrew and could give this to them... to their son.

Quinn leaves a blue pill and downs both a red one and a blue one with a few sucks of juice. The juice will help to boost her blood sugar, the red pill to lessen any swelling, and the blue to kill minor pain and help her to sleep. She does this as he prays, murmuring the traditional prayers [he wants to bless their son but he can't, because what do you say? G-D won't make him like Ephraim and Menashe because their son is what he is and he won't change - so he prays over him instead] and crying. They'll never have enough time with him.

She watches as Puck holds the infant and cries, and she reaches out one hand to rest on his knee, as she weeps, too. It seems this day has been nothing but tears and heartache followed by more tears and more heartache, and Quinn cries more and more as it all begins to sink in. Puck doesn't cry, and seeing him weeping openly like this? Sobbing for the son they prayed for and hoped for and tried so hard to conceive? It's like the final brick in the wall.

He strokes the top of their son's head and kisses the edge of the blanket like the rabbi kisses the _tallit_. "_Ahuvati_," he calls her softly, "I need the basket." The ice packs are still cool in the bottom of it, and he takes the basket from her as she presses her palm to his knee and shifts to lie on the bed, her head on their pillow. He carefully arranges the blanket inside, shifting the covering to shield his face, and eases his stiff and sore body from the bed to place the basket in a location of honor atop the hope chest that lies in one corner of their room [it's Quinn's, and he'd laughed the first time he had seen it]; he takes the thin vase of flowers he'd given her earlier in the week and moves it from the nightstand to the hope chest. It's as much honor and dignity as they can give him right now.

Quinn's tears soak her pillow, until the effects of the blue pill sink in, and Quinn becomes drowsy. She doesn't know how long it takes, but soon, she's fallen asleep.

When he returns from his task, he realizes that his wife is asleep on the pillow, her breathing shallow and her cheeks shiny. He takes his own pill, chasing it with a swig from the opened water bottle, and lies next to her, shifting her to rest against his body and doing his best to wrap her in his love.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**The Book of Hebrew Baby Names**** is, as far as a web search wi****ll tell us, not an actual book and is therefore from the authors' minds.  
**

Written-in-hearts**, thank you! We're glad that you continue to read what we've written, emotions and all. **

finchelquickftw**, thank you so much! We're hoping to involve some guest**** writing at some point, and we'd like**** to utilize the talents of a friend who typically writes Beth for us. ****We hope that we've done the situation justice; it's always difficult to explain grief and death to a child in a way that will help them understand but not make them afraid or insecure.**

atothekc**, ****we're so glad that you're liking the story! We've written a considerable amount and we're posting it gradually. We've hit a bit of a lull in our writing, but we have several ****more chapters to post before the story changes direction a bit. ****Thank you for letting us know how you feel!**

fngrcufs**, ****thank you so much for what you've written. You've given us a considerable amount of constructive criticism, and it helps to get feedback to know what we're doing well. ****As we've said in previous Author's Notes, we write from some level of experience. We are both new to writing for our particular characters and have only been writing for them since the end of January, and we're glad to know that we've managed to capture them well and as in-character as possible, keeping in mind the expected development from current Glee to the time period when this story is set. ****Again, thank you!**


	12. The Only Difference That I See

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Twelve

"The Only Difference That I See"

* * *

Quinn wakes groggily in bed with Puck. Her hand instinctively goes to her abdomen, and she freezes when it connects. The events of the previous day all come flooding back so quickly it makes her head spin. Her hazel eyes focus on the basket across the room on top of her hope chest; they squeeze shut, trying to block out the pain of the previous day, but she can't. There's too much. Her body feels as if it's been run over by a Mack truck, and her heart? Well, that's not even a pain she can begin to describe. She chokes back a sob, and rolls over into Puck, who's still asleep, seeking the warmth of his body and the comfort of his arms. She doesn't want to wake him, but she needs him now more than she ever has before.

Sleeping pills are always quick to work on Noah Puckerman. He might have to take the strongest dose recommended for other medications, crossing his fingers and hoping that he doesn't have to take any more, but, when it comes to sleeping pills, one is enough. His sleep is long and solid, and his arms remain encircled around her until she decides to break free or awaken him. He doesn't dream, which is a blessing in and of itself; he doesn't want to relive the events of the day prior. It was difficult enough watching Quinn going through this pain, and he would have been able to handle it the same way he'd handled Beth's birth if there was happiness at the end. His heart would have ached for her, sure, because he can't _stand_ to see her hurting, but it would have been for a good reason, a natural reason, and he would have been by her side, holding her hand and encouraging her along, and stealing peeks at their crowning baby and actually fascinated this time [not disgusted - well, not much, because it's still kind of a little gross]. But they have to deal with not only the physical pain, but with the all-encompassing agony of their loss. Maybe it would have been easier if they'd lost the baby earlier on, before they'd gotten attached, before she'd started to show. Before they'd counted this as a success [because it was a success, because their efforts and the reversal had finally worked, and it was proof that she _could_ get pregnant naturally]. Before their success had turned them into the weak people they hadn't been two days prior. She would have been in pain, and bled, and that's all. It would have hurt, but not this much. His sleep is dreamless, his breath troubled, his embrace tight.

She really hates to do this, but she can't be alone right now - alone, awake, in the room with the body of their child. It's just kind of frightening to her, and she needs Puck, awake and with her. She nudges him softly at first, then a little harder. "Ba... Puck, wake up," she urges him. "Please, Puck? Wake up."

She knows that Tylenol PM to Puck is like Ambien to anyone else, and she pushes a little harder [though it's a struggle given that she's half asleep and still very weak], crying out his name now. She's starting to freak out a little bit about this being alone thing. "_Puck_!"

_Bubbeh _wakes from her sleep on the couch at the sound of high-pitched desperate cries, and starts up the stairs quickly, concerned for Quinn.

Few things short of a natural disaster will wake him until the effects of the sleeping medication have worn off. One thing on that short list? The panicked cries of his wife. He sits bolt-upright, clutching at her, jaw slack and exhausted eyes wide. "Baby, Quinn," he gasps, the words coming automatically [he's awake, but his brain? not so much] as he hears pounding that grows louder and louder as his mother moves up the stairs faster than a woman in her early forties should be able to move. His lips find her face, kissing everywhere he can, morning breath be damned, as he tries to calm her. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I was sleeping, what's wrong?" he asks between kisses, feeling her heart racing against his chest.

The word _baby_ stings... It shouldn't. It's so natural. So familiar, rolling off his lips nearly every time he speaks to her, but hearing it right now? It only reminds her of the baby in the basket, like Moses in the bullrushes, except Moses was alive. And her baby isn't.

She doesn't know what to say to Puck. _Everything _is wrong, and her heart is broken, and she was scared and alone when she started trying to wake him up, and now she's not, and that's all she really needed in the first place. That, and maybe the ability to turn back time to the morning before so that she could have gone to the doctor, and maybe stopped this before it got so far.

It's too late for that, but she can't be alone in the room with her son. She's not afraid _of him_, but she's still afraid.

Puck's mom bursts through the door just in time to find Quinn crying in Puck's arms. _Quinn,__ honey... are you alright?_ She means physically, and Quinn knows that, but she can't say anything, because she's pretty much at the point of a panic attack. She's hyperventilating, and clinging to Puck, and it all seems so surreal. _Quinn, honey, I need you to concentra__te on taking deep breaths._ She does the best that she can, but in this moment, Quinn can concentrate on nothing but the knowledge of what the basket on her hope chest holds, and the ache in her heart at that knowledge.

"Quinn," he whispers, pressing his lips against her forehead in a long, slow kiss. Since the night they'd conceived their son, this is probably the only time they've actually worn clothing to bed. "Breathe with me, okay? You gotta." The night before rushes back to him as she sobs, and tears trickle from his eyes, down his cheeks and into her hair as he fights to keep his breath steady. _In... one, two, three, four. Hold, five, six, seven, eight. Out, nine, ten, eleven, twelve__. I__n, one, two, three, four... _He repeats the rhythm slowly, wordlessly, his breath stirring her messy curls.

His mother stands halfway between the bed and the doorway, present if needed, wearing a pair of Puck's rumpled sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt. _Noah's got it_, she tells herself silently, watching as she glances to the side, glancing at the place of honor they'd created for the baby. They'd slept late, and she'd already called Dr. Wu and Rabbi Greenberg over a cup [pot...] of coffee. Dr. Wu would see them as soon as Quinn arrived, whenever that would be; Mrs. Puckerman had explained what had occurred and what she had done in the aftermath. He'd like to examine the placenta, see the photos, and do a brief physical examination of Quinn including an abdominal ultrasound. She only wonders who will be the _shomerim_ while they are gone; she'll defer to Noah's opinion. The rabbi will attend when they return home and discuss these things with them, she's sure.

Quinn tries to keep up with Puck's breathing pattern, and before too long, she's breathing somewhat normally again. She curls against his side, shuddering with the effort of calming herself down. "Puck," she whispers. She doesn't know what to say, so she says his name. It's so simple, but it's the only thing she can think to say.

Once Quinn is somewhat in control again, Mrs. Puckerman speaks up. _Quinn... We hav__e to go to the doctor today, t__o make sure your body is __safe__. Do you want me to find you some __clothes?_

Quinn clings tight to Puck. She's not ready to leave this room, and she doesn't want to leave their baby alone. Shaking her head firmly, she says, "I... I don't want to go..." Even as the woman speaks, she knows that she's being irrational, and not making sense at all. She _has_ to go. She could _die _if she doesn't. It doesn't matter to her in this moment. "We can't leave him, Noah!" she exclaims, through a fresh wash of tears. "He's our baby, he's ours..."

He can feel the difference in her body as she breathes, her sobs slowly ebbing away as she matches her inhalations and exhalations to his own. "I know, Quinn," he whispers, cradling his wife's body against his and gently rubbing her back to soothe her. "I know. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much." His mother speaks, hovering in the background, and he nods distractedly in her direction. "Quinny, I'm here, I won't leave you. I'm staying with you, _Ahuvati_, and we won't leave him alone. I swear we won't." _Fuck. Who'll stay with him_? He realizes their dilemma at her words, because even he feels uncomfortable leaving the house, abandoning their son even if just for an hour. "Mom," he begins quietly, explaining his agreement, "_shomer_. Quinn and I want one."

He thinks for a brief moment. The person doesn't have to be Jewish, just - somebody close to them, somebody they can trust with their son. Judy has Beth; he doesn't want Beth at the house, not right now.. As far as Hannah goes, their mother can make that decision. He doesn't know if the Berry family knows, or if Rachel's in town. "Would Rabbi Greenberg be willing to sit with him?" His question to his mother is quiet. "Or Hannah, unless Quinn wants somebody else. I'd stay, but I'm not leaving Quinn, and - Mom, I need you to come with us, help us through this. Make sure we did the right thing, ask the right questions." He needs that reassurance for both of them, to know that he hadn't given their child a death sentence when he could have been saved. "_Ahuvati_," he whispers in his wife's ear, "I won't leave him alone, and I won't leave you, but we _are_ going to make sure you're okay. Let Mom get your clothes so I can dress you. You can wear my stuff if you wanna."

Puck's tone is soft, but firm, and Quinn knows he's leaving no room for argument. It hurts, they're both hurting... But he isn't leaving her, and she doesn't have the option of not going to the doctor. She knows that Puck and Beth need her, and she wants to be there for them, but she also doesn't want to leave the bed.

Finally, she nods. "I want your clothes." She takes comfort in wearing them. His clothes are too big, and most of them swallow her whole, but they're comfortable, and they smell like him. Quinn turns to Puck, feeling completely helpless. Why can't she dress herself like a normal person? It's like she has nothing left to give, to anyone - herself included.

When Quinn finally relents, both Puck and his mother visibly relax. She's going to the doctor's whether she likes it or not, and, like his mother used to say when he was young, _We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. It's your choi__ce, but we're going to do it_. She's going to see Dr. Wu, and she's going to lie there and let him do what he needs to do, because he's already lost their son. He's not going to lose her because of some stupid reason that could be found and fixed with the help of an ultrasound. Everything seems okay, physically, but they'd learned yesterday that even something that seems peaceful and normal can bring unexpected heartache. If they ever have another baby, he decides, holding her, he's going to get one of those microphone things that Dr. Wu uses at every appointment to hear the baby's heartbeat. They're going to check the heartbeat every day. If she ever carries another child, this will not happen. He won't let it.

Puck holds his wife, rubbing her back with soothing motions, even as he concentrates on his breathing to keep himself calm. The last thing that Quinn needs right now is for him to panic or sob, because - he _knows_ - she won't be able to stay calm unless he does. "We'll get you my clothes, Quinn," he murmurs, his lips pressed to her forehead as he cradles her in his arms. "Whatever feels good, whatever you want." She won't need to decide between her maternity clothes and her pre-pregnancy clothes when she has his to wear. As he points to different drawers, Mrs. Puckerman finds clothes that are small enough for Quinn, taking a pair of sweatpants from one drawer and a shirt from another. His Ohio State hoodie is slung over the back of a chair; he _loves _that sweatshirt, and wears it constantly. It smells like him. It will comfort her, he hopes.

"Mom," he murmurs, glancing up at his mother as she presses the clothes carefully on the bed. "Can you find us a _shomer_- Quinn, is there anybody you want to stay with him while we go? - We need to get dressed to go." As much as he loves his mother and she'd seen them both at their worst on the day before, he isn't about to strip in front of her, or undress his wife in front of her. It's better that he asks her to complete this task. The sooner they leave, the sooner they can return, to stay with their son and meet with the rabbi.

Quinn looks at Puck, her mind racing with who would be best to sit with their baby. She doesn't want to put Hannah through that. She's still young, and at her age, Quinn wouldn't have wanted to do it, either. She finally speaks. "Rachel's dads - I mean - if that's okay. Do you think they'd - I mean - If they're not too busy or working or..." Rachel Berry's two gay dads are two of the kindest, most gentle people Quinn has ever had the pleasure of knowing, and she knows that they will protect the baby boy. From what, Quinn isn't sure, because he's already gone. But it's comforting just the same.

With a nod, he has his answer. "The Berrys, Mom. Can you call them and... ask if they'll come and do it? So we can take Quinn?" He doesn't think that Rachel's in town, but she'd been an amazingly good friend to Quinn, coaching her through the wedding ceremony and everything that a Jewish woman needed to know to be a wife and mother. [The thing about Rachel is that if she doesn't have personal experience with something, it compels her to research the fuck out of it.] If they needed to coordinate _shiva_ or _bikkur cholim_, she could easily handle that while keeping the pressure low on everybody else.

"Hiram and Leroy won't say no. At least one of them will drop whatever he's doing and come here," _Bubbeh_ reassures them softly. The Puckerman and Berry families had been close for years; Puck still remembered trying to kiss a kindergarten-aged Rachel in the hallway at Hebrew school. Even twenty years later, the three families spent major holidays together, and a bond had developed. The family friends had been as elated to hear Puck and Quinn's Hanukkah news as their parents had been, and the request to help them in their sorrow is a reasonable and natural one that Mrs. Puckerman is sure won't be denied. _I'll handle that. Just fo__cus on yourselves right now_, she suggests gently before leaving the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"It'll be a little bit before they come over," he whispers, kissing Quinn's hair as he shifts to lie on the bed, easing her down with him and keeping his arms tight around her body. "You wanna lie here until we need real clothes? I'll hold you."

Puck's mother has been nothing but perfect. Quinn doesn't know what they would've done yesterday without her help... her constant steady presence helping them to fight through everything and survive to see the next day. But she's grateful when she leaves them alone to go and call Rachel's dads, so that she and Puck can hold each other for a little while.

She lets Puck move them down into the bed and under the blankets, and closes her eyes, breathing in his scent, trying so hard to focus on this, and only this. She can't face anything else right now, so she lets him hold her, arms strong and tight around her body. Her head rests against his chest, and she just lies still in his arms. Tears are still streaming from her eyes, but she's not wracked with sobs as she's been most of the time she's been awake over the last 24 hours. "Puck, I'm so tired..." she managed to say. It was the first time she'd really been able to take inventory of how exhausted she was, short of being asked to describe how she felt.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Jordon5**, no, we haven't yet revealed the baby's name. If you're terribly curious, web-searching may be helpful**** using the clues we've provided thus far****. We will reveal the name in a soon-to-be-posted chapter. ****Thank you for asking!**

finchelquickftw**, we are breaking the chapters up in bite-size portions. There will probably be some longer chapters now that we've passed the true tragedy, and we'll do our best to break it up by time rather than event. Thank you so much for staying with us!**


	13. I Am Everything You Want

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Thirteen

"I Am Everything You Want"

* * *

_She lets Puck move them down into the bed and under the blankets, and closes her eyes, breathing in his scent, trying so hard to focus on this, and only this. She can't face anything else right now, so she lets him hold her, arms strong and tight around her body. Her head rests against his chest, and she just lies still in his arms. Tears are still streaming from her eyes, but she's not wracked with sobs as she's been most of the time she's been awake over the last 24 hours. "Puck, I'm so tired..." she managed to say. It was the first time she'd really been able to take inventory of how exhausted she was, short of being asked to describe how she felt._

It's taken years, but his mother has finally become the mother that they've needed her to be. It hadn't been easy, having Noah at a young age, followed by Hannah, followed by abandonment. She'd rearranged her schedule and coordinated with Nana Connie so that she could work without leaving the kids alone or without a home, without food. They'd grown up on take-out and frozen dinners, because it was easier than cooking; once they grew and were old enough to cook on their own, take-out had become habit. He'd been the same kind of screw-up that his father had been until he'd made the decision that he couldn't be that guy, and he'd do everything in his power to be a good father, to stay out of trouble and be a faithful boyfriend. His mother had little for him then other than frustration and discouragement. Now, he and Hannah are grown - mostly. He's proven his independence, his capability to care for his family, and his responsibility and maturity in being an attentive father and a faithful husband. Mrs. Puckerman doesn't worry about Noah anymore; he's stayed out of trouble since he and Quinn rekindled their relationship. Juvie and probation are a distant memory. His grades were good enough to get into college, if he'd wanted to, but he'd chosen to rent a house with Quinn and work to take care of his family while Quinn took classes to become a teacher. His priorities had changed. His mother is proud of the man he's become, even if Quinn is his reason for changing.

This is probably the most he's ever really loved his mother and acknowledged it, even to himself. She's being strong for both of them and handling things that he know he wouldn't be able to do right now without falling apart.

"I love you," he tells Quinn, pulling the blankets over their head with one hand and holding her close as they burrow into the bed. "I know... I know. And you can sleep. I'll be right here, and everything's gonna get handled, and you can sleep. If you wanna sleep, just let me hold you. I'll keep you safe." His lips press softly to her forehead. "We need each other right now," he murmurs. "I need you with me just as much as you need me. Don't - don't hide something if you're afraid, or if you don't want me to hurt. I'm scared, sad, and I need you, too. I need my wife."

Quinn remembers how excited she was the day she became Quinn Puckerman... How her heart had thrilled with pride every time Puck called her his wife. It had meant they'd made the vows to be together forever, and the _ketubah_ on their wall is the contract they'd made with each other... a covenant to love one another and only one another through whatever came their way. Now, when Puck says he needs his wife, Quinn understands what the promise they made meant more than ever. In this time when she wants to curl up in a ball and hide from the world, she needs Puck, and he needs her. They can't do this without each other.

Her eyes squeeze shut and she curls up into Puck's arms, but she doesn't go to sleep. Instead, she concentrates on how solid his arms are around her, how strong he is, protecting her from the world outside, even though she knows that soon, she'll have to go out into it. The only thing carrying her through that thought is the knowledge that Puck will be right beside her, loving her through this.

"I love you," she whispers. So much pain surrounds them, but she clings tight to the knowledge that he is here with her because he loves her, because he is her husband, and because they have no hope in hell of making it through this without being there for each other.

Her breathing never evens out completely as she lies in his arms, dropping into the slow rhythm he knows so well. She's awake but resting, which - he figures - is about as good as they're going to get without a sleeping aid or sheer exhaustion [and maybe he'll see if Dr. Wu will prescribe something for her to help her sleep, because he's unwilling to keep giving her Tylenol PM]. "I love you so much," he answers in response to the words he feels whispered against his chest, Quinn's silky hair draped over his forearm as he holds her against his body, sheltering her as best he can. "I don't ever want that to happen again." His voice is a whisper against the top of her head. "I wanna find out what happened so this never happens again. It's not your fault, but... Quinn, I love you, but I can't go through this again."

When Puck tells her it's not her fault, Quinn doesn't totally believe him. She's pretty sure that she should've called the doctor sooner, been more urgent when she started the cramping. Done _anything _but fail to take care of her child that way. That thought brings on another round of weeping.

She remembers how, two nights ago, she and Puck had lain in bed together, talking to their baby... talking about how they couldn't wait to see it, and now they can, and it's hell. But they have their family... Each other, Beth, Bubbeh, Judy, and the whole Glee family surrounding them. And no matter what happens, they will not go it alone.

She'll never be alone; neither will he. They lie together beneath the sheets with no thought to the time, because simply being together is the only thing that they can have right now. They want so much - for their baby to be safe once more, especially - that they can't have. Time doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is family.

The doorbell sounds, the chime audible even in the burrow they've made for themselves in their marriage bed. It was as though the upstairs and downstairs of their house were two separate worlds, the stairs a bridge between them. Beth's toys had been strewn in the living room, the dollhouse abandoned, the doll-family reflecting Beth's thoughts on their family: Daddy Doll was in bed with Mommy Doll, and Little Girl Doll was on top of the roof. Mrs. Puckerman had busied herself downstairs, settling on the couch with a cup of reheated coffee and her cell phone. She'd dialed Leroy first, explaining the situation; his answer was an instantaneous _ye__s, I'll leave the office now_, and he'd offered to call both Hiram and Rachel to convey the news and help in whatever way they could. _Noah and Quinn had met at the Berry house for__ the final night of Hanukkah_, she and Leroy had reminisced briefly. For every Jewish celebration, beginning when Rachel and Noah were still infants, they'd gathered at the Berry home and enjoyed the sense of _belonging_ that the tradition had brought, through the bad [Mr. Puckerman's abandonment, the death of Nana Connie] and the good [the steady progression of Noah and Quinn's relationship, and their first Hanukkah as a married couple]. The final night of Hanukkah had brought Quinn, glowing even when she'd bolted to the bathroom, and Noah, barely able to contain his excitement. _They were so happy_, the two adults had agreed.

Mrs. Puckerman opens the door to Leroy Berry; _Hiram will be here_, he reassures her, _and we called Rachel to let her know. She's going to do a little cooking and mak__e cookies for Beth, and she'll come over later if Quinn and Noah want that. She can arrange the_ bikkur holim _or_ shiva. _Anything they need. They're like family to us_. She offers him coffee, which he accepts; _I'll go upstairs and get Noa__h. You can le__t Hiram in when he gets here_, she announces quietly, and he touches her hand as he takes the mug. _I'm sorry for your loss_, he murmurs, his brown eyes sincere. She nods.

_Noah?_ she calls out softly, opening the door to their bedroom and seeing the huddled lump beneath the old comforter. _Honey, Leroy's here and Hiram's on his way. The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll be back, and we can stop at Quinn's mother's and see Beth__ if you're ready to see her. _Puck tightens his hold on Quinn, inhaling a deep breath and softly kissing her forehead. "I love you," he murmurs, his face stinging and swollen from the tears he's shed. "I love you so much, and I'll never leave you."

Puck's promises mean so much to her, and having him here beside her is the most she could hope for in such a horrible situation. She looks at him, eyes filled with trust. He would never do anything intentionally to hurt her, and right now, he's protecting her. Protecting her from the possibility that this horrible tragedy could hurt her physically as much as it has emotionally. She slowly starts to sit up in bed, groaning with the effort and the stress it puts on her already-weak body, before she turns to Puck. She can't do it. She just can't.

He's quick to sit up, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to her temple. "It's okay," he whispers, as his mother hovers outside the doorway, facing away from them. "I got you. Just - let me carry you, let me take care of you. I'll grab a banana or something downstairs before we go. I can't take care of you if I'm a mess, Quinn. I'll get you dressed, carry you downstairs. Just let me do it, and I want you to eat something even if you don't wanna, because all the blood you're losing - I don't want you to pass out or anything. Please." She curls against his body in silent agreement, resting her head on his shoulder, and he softly kisses her hair. "I got you. Let me get up so I can get dressed, okay? We should probably grab your clothes and change you in the bathroom." He remembers how much blood there had been the day before; the soft steps of his mother disappear first down the hall and then down the stairs.

She turns as he slides from the bed, settling into the covers once more as she watches him with half-lidded eyes. She's tired and pale, the exhaustion and grief and hunger and blood loss setting in, and it's as though the woman he'd married had slipped away during the night only to leave a shell as replacement. He accepts it, his gaze fixed on her as he discards his shirt and pants, tossing them into the hamper and pulling off his shorts to throw on top of the pile. He doesn't care. He's just worried about her, about keeping himself together because he needs to take care of her, he needs to take care of their daughter. They'll never find their way out of this if they're both wandering around lost. "I love you," he murmurs, stepping into clean boxers and jeans, finding his old McKinley football t-shirt in his drawer and throwing it over his head. There's comfort in familiarity.

His mother had set Quinn's clothes on top of the bed; they'd fallen to the floor in their movement, and he bends to pick them up and return them to the bed. "Wait here," he tells her quietly, "I'm gonna bring him downstairs to my mom so we can go to the bathroom. Carefully, solemnly, he lifts the basket from the surface of the hope chest, carrying it from the bedroom, down the hallway, down the stairs... placing it in the hands of his mother, as her words to Hiram Berry die on her lips and she sets her coffee mug on the table. "Thanks for coming," he tells the Berry men as his eyes remain trained on the floor, and Leroy steps forward to wrap him in a hug, pressing Puck's head to his shoulder the same way that Mr. Schu had comforted him after Beth's birth. He remains like that for a few moments before murmuring, 'I have to get back to Quinn," and breaking away from the embrace, trudging up the stairs and into the bedroom.

He scoops Quinn into his arms with little preamble. "Grab the clothes," he whispers, lowering her so that she can reach them easily. Bra, larger panties, sweatpants, t-shirt, sweatshirt, all piled in her arms as he eases sideways through the doorway. The bedroom seems less somber now that their child is under the care of his _bubbeh_. "Can you handle your girl stuff?" He doesn't want to ask, but he'd rather not handle it [yes, he's inept when it comes to that stuff, but he'll do it if he has to]. "Maybe get in the shower quick if you need to wash off - I'll stay right here with you and hold your hand if you want," he offers; she always, _always_ showers during Shark Week.

A shower would feel incredibly good on her sore, tired body, and she agrees to Puck's suggestion. She's glad he's offered to stay with her and hold her hand. He helps her undress, but she takes care of the girl stuff herself. It's a painful reminder that she's not pregnant... Not anymore... as she cleans up a little bit before climbing into the shower, hot water rushing down over her worn body.

He's so close, as if he's afraid to let her out of his sight, and honestly, that thought is comforting. She's not alone. Puck is here. Puck will always be here. He's not going to leave her. Her hand reaches out to his, needing to feel him close to her.

The water washes down over her body, and Quinn finds herself wishing she could wash away the memories as easily as she washes her hair. She wishes she could un-remember the joy of the day that she found out she was pregnant, the joy on Puck's face and in her own heart. She wishes she could wash away the memory of Puck holding her close, his hand resting heavy on her belly, even when it was still flat. She wishes that she could forget the day before forever, and just start all over. But it's really never that simple, and this will haunt her... probably for the rest of her life.

She finishes up her shower and climbs out, putting one of the pads Puck's mom had brought her into her underwear and pulling them on, before sitting down on the toilet lid and burying her face in her hands to cry again. She wonders if the crying will ever stop. Realistically she knows it will, but in this moment, it certainly doesn't feel like it will.

Soaked and swollen, hazel eyes turn up to the loving face of her husband. She needs his help to get dressed. It's not necessarily than she can't, and physically, the shower certainly helped her feel a little better. But she needs Puck as much as she needs oxygen right now, and she can't _not_ have him help her through this.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

finchelquickftw**, thank you for sticking with us! We're slowly plodding along when it comes to writing, but we definitely have the next five or six chapters finished. We'll be advancing a bit more in time, but we have yet to do that in a way we feel is adequate. Thank you so much!**


	14. A Tear from Your Eye Brings Me Home

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Fourteen

"A Tear from Your Eye Brings Me Home"

* * *

_She finishes up her shower and climbs out, putting one of the pads Puck's mom had brought her into her underwear and pulling them on, before sitting down on the toilet lid and burying her face in her hands to cry again. She wonders if the crying will ever stop. Realistically she knows it will, but in this moment, it certainly doesn't feel like it will._

_Soaked and swollen, hazel eyes turn up to the loving face of her husband. She needs his help to get dressed. It's not necessarily than she can't, and physically, the shower certainly helped her feel a little better. But she needs Puck as much as she needs ox__y__gen right now, and she can't __not__ have him help her through this._

He stands between the colored shower curtain and the clear liner, watching Quinn as she showers, the tears on her face blending with the hot water as it runs over her body. Their fingers are tangled, his hand dripping with water, and the pain is clear on his face as he keeps his waits. His hand only abandons hers when she turns the water off and steps out of the shower, a thick [dark-colored] towel promptly wrapped around her body as he folds her close to his own to warm and comfort her. "I love you," he murmurs, releasing her so that she can handle her girl-stuff, standing behind her and gently toweling her hair dry as she sits.

She won't stop crying; it feels as though she'll never stop even though he knows that - _someday _- the hurt will fade, and they'll remember yesterday and today and not immediately weep. For now, though, the pain is too new, too raw; he swallows as the tears form fresh in his own eyes. She sits, naked but for her underwear, and he snags his robe from the hook on the back of the door and drapes it around his wife's shoulders to keep her warm. "I'm right here," he reassures her quietly. "I won't leave you. Just tell me what you need."

Quinn reaches for her bra with one hand as she wipes away tears with the other, trying so hard to pull herself together. Puck can't be strong forever, and she hates expecting him to be. She manages her bra, but then looks at Puck for help with his t-shirt and sweats that she'll be wearing. She has a terrible thought hit her: _what if we run into someone we__ know and whoever it is asks about the baby? _They won't be able to tell that she isn't pregnant with how big Puck's clothes are on her slender body.

She turns her focus to helping Puck dress her, mainly to keep her from falling apart again. It's the most important thing right now, getting to the doctor and making sure she's _okay_, as laughable as that sounds to her. Of course she isn't _okay_! How could they think she could be _okay_? Physically, maybe, when she stops bleeding and the soreness goes away, but emotionally? She is most decidedly _not _okay.

He carefully snaps her bra in the back [he's had so much practice at _un_snapping it that his fingers are decidedly shaky when he actually has to snap it, and he fumbles] and reaches for her shirt, dressing her much in the same way that he'd dressed Beth before she decided that she was independent and did_ not _need Daddy's help with dressing in the morning. He's already thought of what they'll do if they run into anybody they know; it's part of the reason why he refuses to leave her side, and why he wants his mother with them for back-up. She can do the explaining while he carries Quinn away.

Her pants and shirt on, he carefully slides his hooded sweatshirt over her head, giving her time to push her arms through as he pulls her hair out through the hood and finds the brush on the countertop. He's used to brushing Beth's hair but rarely does it for his wife; his mother will braid it if he asks her to, because _that_is beyond his level of [lack of] expertise. If it's out of her face, it'll be easier for all of them, and less fuss for her. She sits quietly for him, and when the tangles are smoothed away and the brush glides easily from the crown of her head to the tips of her blond curls [so much like Beth's], he bundles it together gently with an elastic and kneels in front of her. "I love you," he murmurs, resting his cheek against her knee and gazing into her eyes. "I can't tell you that enough. I love you."

Quinn runs her hand over his mohawk as his head rests gently against her knee. His clothes hang loose on her as she whispers through choked tears, "I love you, too, Noah... I love you so much..." They are each other's family, and in this moment, she is so thankful for that knowledge. They will always have Beth and each other, no matter what happens to them.

She wraps her arms around his neck as he lifts her into his arms, carrying her down the stairs into the living room.

"Mom," he calls, stepping down the stairs carefully, both feet on each stair before he steps down to the next one. Quinn's head rests against his chest, tucked under his neck, her arms wrapped around him; he loves holding her this way, protectively, tenderly. "Can you braid her hair? I'm going to make us something quick to eat. You want peanut butter and banana on toast?" he whispers. The peanut butter contains protein and the banana contains potassium, and they were his go-to power sandwiches during football season at McKinley High. He still brings them some days to work. "I know you don't wanna eat. I don't wanna either, but we gotta get through this, and your body's... it's not gonna heal if you don't eat. And I can't carry you if I don't. I'll feed you," he offers softly. "We can go out on the deck with a blanket on the chair [cuddle in their padded lounge chair, one of their splurges and a favorite place to relax on warm mornings with their coffee] and I'll feed you."

Hiram and Leroy hold the wicker basket between them, twin expressions of solemnity on their faces. They're prepared to do what they've been asked here to do, and he wonders for a moment if Rachel Berry realizes how lucky she is to have fathers like them, fathers who won't disappoint her the way his father and Quinn's father have disappointed their children. Rachel might not have an active mother, but her fathers are amazing. When he'd thought about marrying Quinn, he'd looked at the relationships and the couples that had surrounded them; the only couple that made sense, that was _solid_, were the Lopezes, Santana's parents. Looking around them now, he sees so many strong people - the Hudson-Hummels [and Burt's even like another father to him, the Berry family - everybody. Despite it all, he knows how lucky they are.

Quinn agrees to the peanut butter and banana sandwich Puck offers, despite the fact that she's not even sure she'd be able to hold saltines down at this point. She knows she needs her strength, or she'll never be able to get back to the important things in her life, like being Puck's wife and Beth's mom. It sucks, and it hurts, and - no matter what - she'll never be 100% over this. But she can't lie down and die when her family needs her.

She lets him set her down, and releases her tight, clinging grip on his neck as _Bubbeh_ begins to braid her hair. Her hands are gentle but firm as she quickly and deftly braids it, then ties the end with the elastic wrapped around her wrist.

In this moment, she's not weeping. There are still tears, but she is glad the Berrys are here, caring for her son while she, Puck, and _Bubbeh _go to the doctor.

Quinn tries to stand up, starting toward the kitchen - she knows that Puck is right there, but she needs to be able to feel him - and her legs are weak, so she grabs for the chair behind her, a pained grunt escaping her as she falls backward into the chair. She can stand, because she had in the shower. She doesn't know if it was the sudden movement or what, but she sighs, deciding to settle back down on the chair, though she turns so that she can watch Puck in the kitchen.

_Bubbeh_ moves out to catch Quinn as she falters, her expression concerned; Puck had made the right decision in pushing both of them to eat, even if they weren't hungry or didn't feel that they could even tolerate food. She's clearly weak, and he'll probably be heading there. Neither dinner nor breakfast had even occurred to them. Puck pokes his head out of the kitchen, seeing Quinn rest against the chair, pale and slightly anxious. "I'm sorry, Q," he murmurs, walking towards her and bending at her side. "Come on, stay with me." His arms encircle her torso, lifting her up as he hooks a forearm beneath her knees and lifts. "Sit on the counter, like Beth does when I cook. Stay with me." It's not that he means to ignore Hiram, Leroy, and his mother, but his primary concern now is his wife. She needs to stop looking so pale, to stop moving so slowly, to start looking at least somewhat alive.

Quinn lets Puck carry her as he carries Beth. Maybe she shouldn't. Maybe she needs to make herself move and do things on her own. But they both seem to need this right now, and she can't give it up at this moment any more than she can deny it to Puck. She stays right where he placed her as he makes the sandwiches. It's weird, but she watches him carefully as he prepares their food. He used to be so wild, so reckless, but now there is care, even in the way he puts her food together for her.

She wishes she felt physically better than this, but she really doesn't. She just feels like crawling back into bed and sleeping until this isn't real anymore.

He toasts four pieces of wheat bread; they keep a fairly healthy home for Beth's sake, and the four-slot toaster had been a wedding gift. [Four slots means that he can cook four Eggo waffles at one time.] Bananas hang from a hook, the knives are in a drawer, and the peanut butter jar is in the cupboard. Toast, slather, slice, spread, put together, slice in half, heap onto one plate. "Can you stay here with the sandwiches?" he asks softly. "I'm gonna go grab the blanket from upstairs so we can use it. I don't wanna leave you, but I'll be faster this way." The peanut butter begins to melt from the heat of the toast.

Quinn nods, letting Puck leave the room for just a moment, only because she knows he'll be _right_ back. She finds herself wondering what she'll do when he goes back to work. She can't follow him to work every day. And there's Beth to think of, too.

Beth. The child they didn't want, who has become their everything. Quinn doesn't regret for one minute the decision to keep her, and she's so glad that Puck has been there for most of her life, too. It doesn't seem fair, though, that when they're actually ready, and want another child, it's taken from them so harshly.

_Bubbeh _stands nearby, keeping watch over Quinn, just as Hiram and Leroy keep watch over the tiny baby boy in the living room. Quinn's eyes remain focused on the last spot where she saw Puck before he disappeared up the stairs, and she waits for the moment that he's back there again.

He walks briskly through the living room, passing Hiram and Leroy and his son, jogging up the flight of stairs to snatch the thick blanket from where it had fallen at the foot of their bed. Returning to her just as quickly, he tosses the blanket over his shoulder and reaches for Quinn, easing her gently into his arms. She feels lighter in his arms, somehow, as though she's cried so much that she's just a shell. The latch and handle on the glass door is made for days when their hands are full and they need to make a frantic yet well-balanced lunge to get from the kitchen onto the deck. It looks out onto the backyard, where they have so many memories. They've camped out there for two summers in a row, all instances involving a sleepover for Beth and illicit substances resulting in lots of laughter and rolling on top of the snack foods they've knowingly hoarded. They always crush the Doritos to crumbs. They've had Glee summer parties every year; it began as a housewarming party and ended up as a way for anyone who was still in Lima to get together, grill up some burgers, have a little booze [after Beth was asleep], and make s'mores over a fire pit.

He turns, shoving the door open with his elbow; he nearly knocks into his mother, who has silently taken the plate of sandwiches and followed them outside. "Thanks," he murmurs, stepping outside with a shiver and depositing Quinn carefully onto their padded chair. "I love you, Mom." Climbing up to stretch out against Quinn, he places the plate on the wooden deck for a brief moment, shaking the blanket out over them and wrapping an arm around his wife before reaching for the plate. "Open up, Q," he cajoles, taking a sandwich triangle in hand and moving it to his wife's lips. "I'll eat if you eat. I don't wanna, but it'll help you... heal." Physically, at least, because emotionally is something that will take a long while.

Despite how very_ not_ hungry she is, Quinn lets Puck feed her. She knows she has to eat, and the sandwiches actually _do_ taste good. She eats one triangle, then shakes her head. She feels a little sick. "Go ahead, love... eat one..." Shutting her eyes, she curls against him, needing the reassurance, not to mention the warmth of his body. It's cold outside, and she feels cold inside, and it all adds up to her shivering in his arms.

He feeds her, holding the sandwich patiently to her lips as she takes one bite and then another, softly kissing her lips before offering her more. "I love you," he constantly murmurs, his voice gentle. He needs to hear the words as much as he needs her to hear them. She can't ever doubt what he says. In this, he's with her until the end, no matter how bitter or sweet it might be. She finishes one sandwich and he begins to offer her another before she shakes her head and curls against him. "Will you feed me?" he whispers as he kisses her temple, wanting the closeness and the intimacy of the gesture.

Nodding slowly, the woman takes a sandwich triangle from the plate, holding it carefully so as not to drop the bananas. Feeding Puck isn't something Quinn does all that often, and when she does, it's usually some form of foreplay. But right now, it seems to be the perfect visual of where they are. They won't make it through this without taking care of each other, and they need each other as much as they need this food.

Puck's eyes look different to her somehow. Weak and defeated on one hand - and, honestly, she doesn't know how he wouldn't be. But on the other hand, there is a strength in them that Quinn knows all too well. The same strength she'd seen in him time and again when times were hard, and he fought like hell to make it work - when she'd fallen apart on him, screamed and yelled at him, and he'd just held her close and loved her more - was the strength she saw now. She hopes he can eat more than she could, because carrying her around as he is will certainly require him to have some protein. She feels a little guilty. She can walk. She's weak, but she can walk. But she doesn't want to give up the feeling of safety she has in Puck's arms.

"I love you," she whispers. The love they share seems to be the only truth they have right now, and Quinn can't let go of it. It's the only thing she has to cling to.

He takes careful bites of the sandwich, his eyes closing as he leans his head against hers. He barely tastes it, and eats only because he has to, only to maintain his strength. How can he take care of Quinn if he doesn't first take care of himself? When they'd flown to Florida on their honeymoon, he'd remembered the instructions of the flight attendants_. __If you're traveling with a child or someone who needs assistance, put the mask over your face first, and then assist them with__ their mask._ You can't save another person if you don't first make sure that you're okay enough to support that person and keep him or her safe. He can't be strong for Quinn if he's not first strong, period. It's the only reason he pushes himself and puts up a wall between his heart and his mind. They'll break it down in the quiet times, when it's just them, but when they need to be strong and to simply _deal_, he'll build it back up again and do what needs to be done.

"I love you, too," he carefully kisses her lips, closing his eyes as he sinks into the kiss. It's not sensual, or sexual, or the prelude to something they've done numerous times on the same chair, beneath the same blanket. His kiss now is tender, gentle; it's chaste, but it carries the knowledge of years together and the most intimate relationship between a husband and a wife. They're young, but they've fought through so much together, more than most people and _absolutely_ more than anyone their age. Time nearly stops as their lips press together, and he brings one hand up to cup her cheek, smoothing his thumb over her cheekbone as he so often does. "We'll get through this," he murmurs, his eyes finally opening as he rests his forehead against hers. "I swear we'll fight through it, and I'll be right here. Right next to you, Q." He swallows, exhaling a shallow breath. "It's dumb, but I feel closer to you 'cuz we're married. And I know that we can get through anything, even if it takes us - a long time. And I know I won't leave you, ever. And we won't forget this, even if we get through it and it doesn't hurt as much anymore." He nudges her down to brush his lips over her forehead. "Eat more. If he gives you an antibiotic or something, I don't want you to get sick. I will, too. I won't ask you to do anything I won't do, okay? I swear I won't."

The last thing she _wants_ to do is eat anymore. But Puck is so tender in the way he asks her to that Quinn can't say no to him. "Okay," she says, taking a deep breath as she looks up at him out of aching, empty eyes. "I'll eat one more..."

She pushes herself up a little in the chair, glancing at Puck as she waits for him to continue feeding her. She knows as well as he does that she needs to eat. It's just hard to make herself do it.

The pain in her eyes is almost palpable, and he swallows, leaning in to kiss her again; he wants to kiss the pain away, to love her until they both stop _hurting_ as much as they are right now. In this moment, the one thing he wants more than anything is to replace the emptiness in her body, to begin a new life to dull the pain of the one that's ended too soon. All he can think of is the need to replace their sorrow with joy, to bring to her eyes the same happiness she'd felt telling him that she thought that she was pregnant, that it had finally worked. She'd been so happy, then. He'd been happier than he could ever remember feeling.

First things first, and everything in time.

Breaking the kiss gently, he rests his forehead against hers before bringing another triangle of sandwich to her lips. "I just want it to stop hurting," he admits, squeezing his eyes closed to banish the stinging feeling of tears threatening to spill. "I want you to be pregnant and for it to stop hurting so much. I want you to be okay, I want us to be okay. To be happy."

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**Author's Note:**

quinnfabrayxxx**, thank you so much for sticking with us! We hope that you enjoy Chapter 14 as well. **

finchelquickftw**, thank you so much! We're doing our best to get a fanta****stic guest writer for Beth, but - so far - we haven't written much for her. We absolutely apologize for the slower-than-usual updates, and we'll try to have the next chapter up more quickly.**


	15. Just Know That I Won't Let You Down

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Fifteen

"Just Know That I Won't Let You Down"

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_The pain in her eyes is almost palpable, and he swallows, leaning in to kiss her again; he wants to kiss the pain away, to love her until they both stop __hurting__ as much as they are right now. In this moment, the one thing he wants more than anything is to replace the emptiness in her body, to begin a new life to dull the pain of the one that's ended too soon. All he can think of is the need to replace their sorrow with joy, to bring to her eyes the same happiness she'd felt tel__l__ing him that she thought that she was pregnant, that it had finally worked. She'd been so happy, then. He'd been happier than he could ever remember feeling._

_First things first, and everything in time._

_Breaking the kiss gently, he rests his forehead against hers before bringing another tr__i__angle of sandwich to her lips. "I just want it to stop hurting," he admits, squeezing his eyes closed to ba__n__ish the stinging feeling of tears threatening to spill. "I want you to be pregnant and for it to stop hurting so much. I want you to be okay, I want us to be okay. To be happy."_

Their lips meet, and Quinn clings to Puck for dear life until he pulls away to feed her another sandwich. She opens her mouth, taking a small bite, which she's still chewing when he speaks up. She reaches up to touch his face, brushing her thumbs against his cheeks as he speaks. That's when he says he wants her to be pregnant again, and she's not sure whether he means he wishes she were _still _pregnant, or he wants to get her pregnant again.

"I..." She looks up at him, not quite sure whether or not now is the time to say what she needs to say. "Puck, I don't want to try again." Maybe she'll change her mind someday, but, as it stands, right now? She never wants to be pregnant again, because that pain, that hurt? She can't live through it again.

As she strokes his cheek, his eyes close once more; it's a comforting touch, reassuring and full of love. There's no one else he could ever want to be with in his life. She knows him so well, and he her; her words aren't surprising. He can understand her fear, but at the same time, he's drowning in an ocean of his own sorrow and he just wants to be _happy_ again. "I know we can't, now," he explains, his voice quiet as he holds the triangle of sandwich. "I know we gotta find out what went wrong. But if we can make sure it doesn't happen again, then... _fuck_, Quinn, I can't live feeling like there's something missing. We're never gonna get him back but right now, it feels like there's this huge hole ripped out of us, our family, and I... I need to _not _feel like that. I don't wanna ever go through this again, but, like..." He swallows. "When Beth happened, I didn't ever wanna go through that again, so I got a vasectomy. I didn't wanna go through hurting you, or anybody else, or feeling like my dad, or not knowing my kid. I didn't stop having sex. I fixed it so I could have sex and know it wasn't gonna happen again. If we can do that - if we can do something, if it's me or it's you, if we can fix it so this doesn't happen again... Quinn, it hurts like hell, and I don't wanna go through this again, and I wanna fix it so we can have our family - fuck, have five more kids - but not lose another one like this. I don't wanna just - give up." He presses his forehead against hers, the tears leaking out. "I wanna be a dad again. I wanna hold you, and feel it kick, and go with you to doctor's appointments, and hug you and tell you you're beautiful and I'm fuckin' proud when you hold our baby. I want this to stop hurting. I wanna have so much happy in our lives that it doesn't hurt so much."

Quinn is absolutely stunned when the words just start coming from Puck, followed by tears, and her heart absolutely aches. She presses soft kisses to his cheeks, kissing away the tears, and crying with him. She takes the sandwich out of his hand and puts it on the plate, freeing up both of his hands so that they can hold each other. They both need to cry, to let go of any and all control they're trying to hold on to and just let their grief sink in. For as long as she's known Puck, he's always tried to fill in the holes in his life with something else: sex, in the past. Though since the two of them have been together, it's rare, _extremely_ rare, for him to really feel like there _are _holes - at least as far as Quinn's seen. Quinn is the one who saw only having one child as a hole. Puck was perfectly content, until she begged him to have another baby with her, and this is the payment she got. She's pretty sure it's some twisted form of cosmic karma for not being content with where she was. Now he feels like there's a hole in his life - in their life - and Quinn can't fix it. He wants another baby. She doesn't want to try it again. It's too scary for her now. She can't help it. She doesn't want to have to worry, even for a minute, that this will happen again. But as Puck cries in her arms, she can't bring herself to tell him that right now.

The plate clinks quietly on the ground, plastic against the wood of the deck, and she embraces him while he cries like a baby, burrowing into her body with his arms around her. He doesn't understand it himself, why he needs consistently fill spaces in his life. Before Quinn, and even with Quinn, he'd filled the holes with sex. He'd gone to Santana the night that he'd signed the paper to relinquish his paternal rights, not realizing that Quinn had been unable to sign her own paperwork and had, instead, torn the documents in two. His heart had ached so much from the knowledge that he'd given his daughter to a stranger that the only way to make it stop hurting, even just for a moment, was to distract himself with something else. After he and Quinn had renewed their relationship, he'd sought his comfort in her, alternately sobbing in her arms and making love to her on the day that Nana Connie had died. They'd spend time after every negative pregnancy test and every physical sign eliminating the possibility of a pregnancy wrapped up in each other, becoming increasingly desperate that this _work_, that they make what they have complete or at least do everything they can until they feel that their family is whole. Sex won't solve this pain, and they wouldn't be able to do it anyway; her body needs time to heal itself. The pain of not having what they so desperately want - another pregnancy, another child, someone to love the same way they love Beth - is compounded by the fact that they'd had it in their grasp before it had been snatched away from them. They deal with the familiar emptiness and the new-found loss all at once. "I'm sorry," he whispers into her hair, his voice strained by sobs. "I'm so sorry, I hate that I want it so bad but I do, I want it to stop hurting and that's the only way I know how."

Quinn won't say no to him right now. She can't. She knows that the only thing he can see right now is a fix for their pain in the form of trying again. To her, it's just another chance for more pain, but to Puck? It's a chance to fix the pain he feels. She holds him, wishing so desperately that she could protect him, protect them both, from this feeling, this ache that seems to have filled their house.

"I want it to stop hurting, too," she sobs in return, her hand gently tracing patterns in his mohawk, clinging to him, letting him weep openly. It's good that he suggested coming outside. They need to not be surrounded by other people right now, just for these few moments. They just need each other, and their hurt and heartache and loss and tears, to get through this.

"I'm just so scared, Noah," she whispers, sniffling. All the tears are making it increasingly hard to breathe. "I don't want to ever go through this again. _Ever_. I can't. Puck, if... If this happened again, it would - I couldn't -" She's not saying no. Not right now. Not while he's crying and falling apart and his whole world is in pieces, just like hers. But she's not saying yes, and when things have calmed down? She'll be saying no.

Her fingers stroke against his bare skin and the soft strip of hair down the middle of his skull, pressing him close as they cry together, their arms tangled in a desperate embrace. This is all they can have, all they need right now. "I don't wanna lose another baby, either," he breathes against her cheek, his eyes squeezed shut. "But we're - if we can figure out what happened, maybe we can stop it from happening again. Quinn, we went through so fucking much. I need another baby. I need to - I need to feel your belly again. I need to be a dad again and I need to do it right this time. It's the only thing that's gonna make it stop hurting." He kisses her neck, tears dripping against her skin. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Quinn's heart is breaking as Puck falls apart, begging her to give him another chance to do this the right way, to be there for the duration of her pregnancy, to hold her, and hold their baby, and get to be there through the whole thing. But she just can't ever be pregnant again. She doesn't think she can handle it. Even if the doctor tells her it's fine to try again, and that the next baby will probably be super healthy, and everything. She doesn't want to. It hurts too much.

She knows how much he needs it to stop hurting, because she does, too. But she doesn't think that opening up a brand new opportunity for more heartache is the best way to stop it. "_Shhhhh_," she whispers to Puck, pressing kisses all over the side of his head in a desperate attempt at comforting him. "Puck, I love you," she promises. "You don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault. It's not."

"I'm sorry for wanting it," he murmurs, his embrace tight; her lips pepper desperate kisses over his skin but he can't let her go to return her kisses, to comfort her in any other way but clinging to her and mumbling his love. "I know this isn't my fault, it's nobody's, but I want to have it so bad. It's all I've been thinking about, since we got married," he explains insistently, needing her to understand the _why_. "We decided to get it done and try and it's like, every fucking month, I'd hate myself that I couldn't give you what we wanted. I felt like it was my fault. I _wanted _it, Quinn," he sobs, "I wanted another shot, I wanted to really feel like a dad. I wanted more kids, I wanted to hold my baby, rock it... do all the shit I didn't do with Beth. To fix everything I fucked up before." It's so much more than just an empty feeling that he wants to replace; he wants to turn back time, to erase the past and substitute the present - or, now, the future.

Holding Puck close to her, a part of Quinn listens to what he has to say. She loves him, and he deserves to be heard out, especially now; the other part of her tunes him out a little. She hears him, but she can't listen. It just makes it harder to say, "No," and she _has_ to say, "_N__o_." She can't say anything else, because it hurts too much. Their son is gone, and Quinn will _not _run the risk of experiencing this again. She just can't.

"We'll... We'll talk about it after the doctor's office," she says finally. She hopes that by then he'll be a little more rational about this, though she knows Puck. His sorrow doesn't end until he's replaced it with joy, and part of her is angry with herself for denying him this. But somehow, in her mind, it's protecting him. If she lets him have the replacement he wants, the filler for the hole he feels inside, she'll only be opening him up to the possibility of facing this sorrow again, and where does it all stop?

On the other hand, it's not really fair. Puck never tells her no. Not without thinking things through, and being absolutely certain that "no" is the best answer, not only for him, but also for her, for Beth, and for the collective unit of their family. But here, she's already decided and she's just going to bide her time before she tells him.

Her fingers curl tight into his mohawk, and she sobs into his shoulder. She needs this. She needs him to cry with her, to fall to pieces as one so they can begin to put themselves back together as one. "I'm sorry," she cries. "I'm so sorry I didn't - I couldn't save him, Puck."

Her tears dampen the shoulder of his shirt, and he just clutches her tighter. "_No_," he rasps fiercely. "No. It's not your fault." He doesn't know what went wrong, but even if it was something that her body did, he'd never count it as her fault. They both wanted their son more than they'd probably ever wanted anything in their life; even their marriage had been stirred by the desire to add to their family. Their _need_ for a baby was the catalyst. Beth was growing, they were growing, and it had been too damn long. They both wanted this; it was nobody's fault. "It just _happened_, Quinn. It's nobody's fucking fault, it just happened and we couldn't stop it." His head rests against her shoulder and hers against his, cradling in a tight embrace on the couch, their sustenance abandoned on the deck. "I wanna know what happened," he resolves, "so it won't happen next time. Even if I can't make love to you so your body can be okay. If it was my fault. I wanna know so it never happens again."

_There's not goi__ng to _be_ a next time!_she screams inside, though the words just won't come to her lips, not with her husband crying in her arms. His offer, to abstain from sex with her if it would protect a future baby, is more than touching. Quinn knows what a sacrifice it was for him to give up sex for more or less two weeks out of every month in hopes of giving them a chance at another baby. She supposes that now, with the way things went down, they won't be all that concerned with that particular religious tradition anymore.

It suddenly strikes Quinn that who they really need right now? …Is _Santana_. The girl is more of a friend to them than almost anyone else, and she knows them both so well. Quinn's phone is tucked into the pocket of the hoodie she's wearing, and she hits Santana's number on speed dial. Voicemail. Still choked with tears, Quinn manages, "Santana... It's Quinn. We need you. Please come home?"

She lays curled with Puck for a while longer before finally saying, "We - we have to go to the doctor, Puck..." She doesn't want to. She wants to stay here, with him, where it's safe, and no one might ask her questions. But for the sake of their family, she has no choice.

She stills, simply holding him in quiet comfort; maybe there's nothing to say that hasn't already been said. All they have now is fear, questions without answers and answers without the questions to match. _What went wrong? What can we do to fix __it? Could this happen again in the future? What are t__he chances? Will we be okay?_ She doesn't respond to him, instead reaching into the pocket of her sweatshirt and finds her phone, pressing numbers randomly as he buries his face in her neck, unseeing. _Santana_, who had been the equivalent of Quinn's Maid of Honor at their wedding only months ago. Santana, who knew them better than almost anyone had, who'd gone through hell and back with them and was finally back to normal in her own life. It's the right decision to make, to call Santana, even if she's in Chicago right now. They need her. They'd do the same thing for her, if she needed them. She hangs up, tucking the phone into her pocket once more, and curls to Puck like a mirror image before prodding him to rise. He doesn't want to go, to deal with everything inside the house, to drive to the doctor and begin the day of _shiva_ or at least of _bikkur cholim_, remaining in their home while members of their temple, family, friends, everybody stops by with food and prayers and what little comfort they can offer.

"I know," he says simply, swallowing as he twists his body to plant his feet on the deck, reaching down to guide his wife into his arms. "Come on. I'll carry you."

Quinn curls into Puck's arms obediently as he lifts her, the plate of sandwiches in her hand. "I love you," she whispers, knowing that loving him won't be enough to keep his heart from breaking all over again when she makes it absolutely clear that there will be no more babies, no more pregnancies, no quick fix patch for the gaping hole in their lives. She dreads that already, but now, there is this to worry about. Making sure that, when this is all said and done, Beth still _has_ a mom and Puck still _has_ a wife.

"_Bubbeh_," Quinn calls out as Puck carries her back inside. "I - I think we're ready - I mean - for Dr. Wu?"

Puck's mother nods, thanking the Berry men again for being here, before she leads Puck, still carrying Quinn in his arms, to her car. They slide into the backseat, embracing each other in a crumpled heap, as she drives. The paper bag from the refrigerator, her notes, and her camera are all heaped in a flat-bottomed tote, which rests securely on the passenger seat.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

quinnfabrayxxx**,**** thank you so much for sticking with us! We're continually working on this story and we do have a happy ending planned. As for when Puck and Quinn will arrive at that point, we do not yet know. We hope that you enjoy the most recent update!**

lucklessforhim**, we do have to give some degree of credit to various Rachel/Puck writers for their portrayals of the Berry men. Their names are taken from the various Glee books, which are semi-canon without contradicting the show; the author lists their names as Hiram and Leroy. ****Regardless, other writers have done a fantastic job when it comes to portraying the Berry men as understanding and with somewhat of a fondness for Puck by virtue of his personal growth. Their relationship is one that we'd like to see explored on the show. Thank you so much for your compliments! We're several chapters ahead of what we're currently posting, but we don't want to get ahead of ourselves by posting and then scrambling to write. (Also, PB and banana sandwiches are amazing - just follow Puck's instructions!) **

Written in hearts**, thank you so very much! We hope that you enjoy this most recent update just as much as you enjoyed Chapter 14.**

atothekc**,**** thank you! We hope that you'll continue to read.**

dancingdreamers**, ****wow! Thank you for the compliment! We were somewhat frustrated with the treatment of Puck and Quinn in the show, and imagined them to have a more complicated relationship. (We're still holding out hope for Season 3!)**

finchelquickftw**, ****thank you! Rather than explicitly hashing through the medical scenes, we've chosen a more personal way to explain the appointments with Dr. Wu, and he will ****be making an appearance in later chapters as well. We're doing our best to work Beth into the story as an active character.**


	16. It's Only for Tonight

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Sixteen

"It's Only for Tonight"

* * *

He holds her tightly in the backseat as his mother drives to their house. _Incompetent cervix_, Dr. Wu had explained as Puck had white-knuckled the examination table, refusing to leave Quinn's side. The diagnosis wasn't entirely for certain, and he hadn't been able to perform an internal examination, but he had felt comfortable making that determination from a combination of the ultrasound that he'd performed, a few physical tests, a brief examination of the placenta, and Nurse Puckerman's notes. _Incompetent cervix_. It was weak and, as their baby had grown, the pressure and uterine growth had caused premature dilation and contractions. While it wasn't common, neither was it uncommon; Puck had immediately questioned about another pregnancy. _At this time, I'm not seeing any reason why you shouldn't be able to carry another pregnancy to term_, Dr. Wu explained carefully, _but you'll want to__ wait for a__while to give your body time to heal. For this condition, we'd place a cerclage, which is basically a strong stitch, in your cervix, which would be removed when you were closer to your due date. It would strengthen it and prevent you from dilati__ng early. It's the recommended treatment, and women in your situation have been successful with the cerclage for future pregnancies._

It's the recommended treatment. It's successful. You can have more children. This can be fixed.

Everything Dr. Wu tells him only fuels his desire for another child, as soon as Quinn's body can handle it. It's the only way to get back to the way things had been a week ago, with nothing but joy and excitement in their lives. He holds her tightly as the streets of Lima pass outside the car's windows, and he feels hope for the first time since this entire thing began.

But when Puck had asked the doctor about another child, Quinn had forced back every desire in her to scream at him to stop. Stop asking. Stop acting like it's going to happen. It's not. She doesn't want it. Those thoughts are still echoing in her mind as Puck holds her against him in the back seat of the car. She knows why he wants it, but it's not fair. It's just another risk, another chance for their lives to fall apart again. So the doctor thinks they can stop it from happening again. He just thinks that. He doesn't know. It doesn't mean anything to Quinn. She will do whatever it takes to make sure that it doesn't happen again.

Resting her head against his chest, she closes her eyes and tries to imagine that this isn't real. That she and Puck are on their way home from another routine checkup. But she can't. It's a lie, one she can't make herself believe even for a minute.

She just wants to go back home, hide under the blankets, and never come back out again.

An unfamiliar sedan is parked along the curb outside their house near the Berry cars; their driveway is full of cars [Puck's, Quinn's, an open space for Mrs. Puckerman] as they pull into the empty space and his mother throws the car into park. Leroy opens the door for him as Puck climbs out of the car and eases Quinn once more into his arms. She's barely taken a step on her own since waking, and he's content with that. _Rabbi Greenberg's here_, he tells them quietly; Puck nods numbly as he steps sideways through the door and carries Quinn into the living room, where Hiram sits with the rabbi, the basket in Hiram's arms while the rabbi sits with a prayerbook.

_Noah_, he says softly, setting the book to the side and standing before walking to the couple and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, _a__nd Q__uinn. I'm so sorry. Come, sit. We'll talk. Your mother tells me that you'd like to observe the rites as much as possible_, to which Puck nods, pressing a soft kiss to Quinn's hair as he maneuvers to sit them on the couch. His mother lifts the wicker basket from Hiram's arms and sits, cradling the basket as she sits silently.

"We want everything," he speaks decisively, his tears set aside until they can get _through_ this. "We've done _shmirah_. My mother washed him. Quinn made his blanket. I know that we can't use a funeral home or any of that stuff, but we want as much as we can have, for him." Rabbi Greenberg nods thoughtfully. _I understa__nd. I know how much you both wanted this and everything you've b__een through to have him - him?_ Puck nods again, glancing at Quinn. "His name?" he murmurs softly in his wife's ear. They haven't spoken it aloud since they'd decided on it in their bedroom.

Quinn is numb as they listen to the rabbi speak. She is numb, and she feels nothing, because she can't let herself feel right now, or she'll be a broken, weeping mess in Puck's arms in a matter of seconds, and she can't be right now... That's when Puck speaks, and Quinn's eyes turn to meet his. She squeezes them shut, turning her head to the side to look at the rabbi. "His... his name is Adin."

A few tears squeeze out of her eyes, despite her best efforts, and she rests her head on Puck's shoulder. All the energy she'd had she mustered up to say their son's name. It was gone now.

_Adin_. It means gentle, tender, delicate; it was everything their son was and would ever be. No other name had sounded good enough or meaningful enough. "We were supposed to have the ultrasound in a few weeks," Puck explains quietly. "But we could see, you know? When he was born. But none of the names fit, so we looked through our book and we both picked the same one. Quinn wanted a Hebrew name." His mother nods from where she sits, hearing the name for the first time. He buries his face in Quinn's hair, the tears leaking out again because he can't fucking _stop_ them this time. Rabbi Greenberg asks him a few more questions that he can't answer, offering words of comfort and murmuring prayers in Hebrew that he's too distracted to even really acknowledge before asking their permission to arrange for _bikkur cholim_ and to speak to the council for the cemetery. He's whole; he should be buried with the proper rites. _I can come again this evening_, he offers, _and I'll have as much inf__ormation for you as I can get. _Puck nods, once, his face still pressed into Quinn's hair as Hiram Berry walks the rabbi to the door. "I wanna go upstairs and sleep," he quietly tells his wife, his voice stirring the curls at the nape of her neck. "I wanna go upstairs with him, shut the door, and hold you."

Quinn really can't follow the rabbi's words, though she wishes she could. She's glad they're going to give Adin a proper burial, but she can't really express that right now, because it all hurts too much. She is thankful, in this moment, for the Jewish tradition of playing host for the bereaved so that they don't have to. The Berry family is wonderful, and she can't imagine where they'd be without them.

She nods to Puck's suggestion. Her body is so exhausted, even after all the sleep the night before… which was chemically induced, and she doesn't think it did that much good. "Okay," she says softly, curling her arms around Puck's neck so that he can lift her. She feels awful that he's carried her around all day. She can walk. But Puck seems to want the contact, and she does, too.

"Mom?" he asks quietly, his mother hovering near the chair where she'd placed Adin's basket. "Can you bring him up? I don't know what's gonna happen today, everybody can come over, but we're gonna go lie down. Get us up if you need us, okay? And I don't want Beth seeing - seeing him until we talk to her." _And maybe not even then_. His arms - one hooked beneath his wife's knees and the other wrapped around her back - lift her as he stands, kissing her hair automatically as he makes his way toward the stairs. "I love you," he whispers again, "I love you so much and I need you."

Quinn's eyes drift shut as she clings to Puck. She's so exhausted, so worn down. It's like she's aged twenty years in two days. It's hard to remember that, three days ago, she and Puck were planning for their new life, a life with a baby in it. Now, there's just nothing. No baby, no plans - _nothing_.

The comfort of their bed is one of the few things Quinn clings to, and when they get into their room, despite all the pain and heartache, she feels a little safer. "I love you, Noah," she murmurs, already half out of it.

He tugs the covers back and eases her gently onto the heavy padding atop the mattress; he turns, gently accepting the wicker basket from his mother and placing it on the chest against the wall. "Night," he murmurs out of habit, stroking the crocheted yarn with one finger before turning and moving back to Quinn. His mother shuts the door, her feet padding down the stairs. Quinn curls into his pillow, her body in the middle of the mattress and her eyes shut. She almost looks peaceful, but he knows better. "I love you so much," he whispers, sliding into bed and immediately molding his body to hers. "I'm right here. I won't leave. I just wanna sleep with you and make it stop hurting." Tucking his head against hers, he inhales when she does and exhales when she does; they slip into sleep together.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**This is a short chapter, but there will be a short break of time, as well as the introduction of a new character, between the ending of this one and the beginning of the next. We thank her in advance for her wonderful guest-writing, and we look forward to sharing her with you in Chapter 17.  
**

Written in hearts**, th****ank you so much for commenting! ****Without giving away too much of what we've written to this point (beyond what we've posted), we'll tell you that we, as authors, agree. The characters' emotions, however, may be a different story…**

finchelquickftw**, ****we're glad to see you still following! The story will begin to move more quickly at this point, and we hope that you continue to enjoy it.**

**As always, we thank everyone who is reading as well as adding ****L'Chayim**** to their Favorites and Story Alerts. You are why we keep posting!**

_**Beth Smith**_** and **_**tinkerbellbones**_


	17. The Same that Sent Me Away from You

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Seventeen

"The Same that Sent Me Away from You"

* * *

Quinn wakes from her nap to the sound of the doorbell. She's cuddled close into Puck's arms, but she knows before anyone has to tell her that it's her best friend at the door. Santana knows Puck and Quinn probably better than anyone else, and Quinn had known without a shadow of a doubt that Santana would come when she called her.

_Bubbeh _lets Santana in, asking her to wait downstairs, before she walks up the stairs quietly to knock on Puck and Quinn's bedroom door. _Santana's here,_she announces softly.

Quinn sits up in bed, giving Puck a gentle shake. "Sweetheart, wake up," she whispers, glancing over at where their son's tiny basket is on the hope chest. From a distance, he can't be seen, and it's better that way. Quinn doesn't want Santana to see the tiny baby boy until she and Puck have been able to tell her what's wrong. "Let her in, _Bubbeh_," she says, switching on the lamp on the bedside table.

He doesn't dream; he hadn't needed any kind of sleeping aid after the morning, after succumbing to exhaustion. The tears had poured out until his face had been hot and swollen, and they'd placed the wicker basket gently on Quinn's hope chest before crawling into their bed, falling asleep in a close and protective embrace. Even in sleep, he'd wrapped himself around his wife, shielding her - from what, he'd never know. It didn't matter.

He doesn't awaken to the sound of his mother's voice, and only stirs when Quinn nudges him, deliberately rousing him from his sleep. "What?" he mumbles, cracking one eye open as he yawns and shifts closer to Quinn. A nap in the middle of the day isn't nearly enough to compensate for the exhaustion he feels, and the only time in the past twenty-four hours when he hasn't felt the heaviness of sorrow spreading like a cancer through his body has been when he's slept. Sleeping is easier than functioning, than living, than dealing with all of this. "Let who in?" he murmurs, his head resting on the pillow as he hooks an arm over Quinn's thighs, wanting her to stay.

When Santana checked her voicemail after her first class of the day, she was surprised to find a message from Quinn. A sobbing Quinn, just saying that she and Puck needed her. She was confused, of course, wondering what the hell had happened, what she was missing, but she'd headed out the door at once. She'd be missing a few classes, but it didn't matter. If Quinn and Puck needed her, she was there. She left word with her roommates that she was leaving for Lima and that she didn't know when she'd be back. She didn't pack, didn't bring a thing but what she had, just slid in the car and started the five hour drive to Lima.

Her mind raced as she drove. What could have happened? Last she'd heard, everything was going fine. She didn't know what to think, but _God _was she nervous. She slid in a CD, singing along softly to herself to keep herself calm. She couldn't get herself too worked up or she would get reckless, and with the drive ahead of her, she couldn't afford that.

When she arrives in Lima and pulls up in front of the Puckerman-Fabray household, she straightens her clothes and long hair as best as she can before ringing the doorbell. She's surprised to find Mrs. Puckerman there, answering the door, but she swallows her anxiety, forces a smile and waits downstairs as she's told, trying not to freak out. This is not good. It can't be.

She practically runs up the stairs when Puck's mom tells her they're waiting for her, but she forces herself to look calm, if a little confused, as she walks in. "Hey, Q," she says softly, smiling at her best friend. They're...in bed? Kind of early, isn't it? Still, she doesn't comment. "Are you...okay?" She sits down on the bed, sliding an arm around Quinn's shoulders.

Quinn shifts in the bed, patting the spot next to her to make room for Santana as she joins her. In any other circumstance, Puck would be making a wisecrack about the fact that he finally got Santana and Quinn in bed with him at the same time... But this isn't any other time, and the humor just isn't there. She slips her arms around Santana's waist, shaking her head as she buries her face in Santana's shoulder. "No..." she says softly, tears streaming down her face. "No, I'm not..."

She looks to Puck, her eyes pleading with him to help her explain, before she finally just says, in a flat and broken tone, "The baby... We... we lost him..." Her free hand moves to Puck's head, lightly stroking his mohawk, as he tucks his head in against her side.

Santana tenses before she can stop herself. This... It's exactly what she dreaded, driving up here, but what she wouldn't allow herself to think. And now, she learns she was right. No wonder Quinn was so upset on the phone... "Oh, babe," she whispers, and she presses her face against Quinn's cheek. "I'm so sorry..." She's trying not to cry herself. She remembers how excited Puck and Quinn were, how much they wanted another baby. Hell, she was looking forward to it, too. She was going to be an aunt again. And now... "Shit... When?" she asks quietly.

"Yesterday," she sobs, looking at Santana out of broken eyes. "We... I went to the doctor today, and he said... He said my cervix was... weird, I don't know... and that it wasn't strong enough... But everything was fine with Beth... We didn't know, San... We didn't know..." She's sobbing now, both arms wrapped around Santana's waist as she cries into her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I know you have school, but... We needed you, San... _I_ needed you."

Santana shakes her head, feeling tears start to prick at her eyes. "Fuck school," she murmurs. "This is where I need to be. With you guys." She keeps one arm around Quinn's back, the other hand going up to gently stroke her best friend's hair. Her eyes focus on Puck for a moment, trying to figure out how he's holding up. He hasn't said a word yet, but he doesn't look so great either, really. "I'll stay as long as you need me..."

Quinn knows that, if there is anyone she can count on in this world, it's Santana. There's a weird relationship with the three of them. Puck and Santana's relationship had been what kept Quinn from wanting to pursue things with Puck the first time. And yet, somehow, all three of them are best friends now, and when the world falls apart around them, each turns to the other for strength.

"He... It was so awful..." she cries, tightening her hold on Santana. She knows her friend isn't going anywhere, but she needs to hold on to her.

Santana just nods, not quite knowing what to say. She cannot even begin to imagine what that had felt like. She just tightens her arms around Quinn's back and stays quiet, letting Quinn talk as much as she needs to.

Puck curls against his wife's side, his arms looped around her waist, his head resting against the pillow and his forehead pressed to her hip. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair, that all of this happened, that they called Santana home from Chicago and school and her own fucking _life_. This shouldn't have happened. Quinn's voice trembles as she explains to Santana what had happened - _incompetent cervix_, a determination that Dr. Wu had felt fairly confident in making given the progression and abruptness of her labor and the negative results they'd obtained from the various tests that had been performed at her visit, just hours earlier. There's nothing that he can say to make it better, nothing he can tell Santana that would be different than what his wife would explain. She's Quinn's best friend and like a sister to both of them; he hates that she's here, but - at the same time - she's one of the only people he wants with them right now.

Quinn's eyes shouldn't have any tears left. They shouldn't have the ability to cry anymore, but the tears just keep coming, and as much as she hates that they've pulled Santana away from her life in Chicago, she is so iso/i glad she's here. In a way, she wants time alone to talk to Santana about the fact that Puck wants to try for another baby, but in another? she doesn't want Puck to leave her side. Her hand goes back to his head, resting there gently. She can't do it. She doesn't want to do it. She's hurt enough. They've both hurt enough.

Sniffling, she wipes her eyes to clear the tears away from her cheeks, before returning her hand to its place on Puck's head. "Beth... Beth'll be happy to see you..." she says finally, trying, but failing, to force a smile.

Santana nods, smiling a bit thinking about the little munchkin. It's been a while since she's seen any of them, and she's missed them all. She doesn't care that she's raced away from school and Chicago to be here. Sure, it was abrupt and out-of-nowhere, but Puck and Quinn needed her. They were best friends in the entire world, and they needed her home. There was no way she was going to say no to that.

Smiling a bit more as she watches them, Quinn's hand landing on Puck's head, she nods. "Yeah." She sniffles a little and nods. "Uh, where is the little one? I can...leave you two alone, if you want." Much as she wants to help, she figures that they need to be with each other right now.

"She's with my mom," Quinn replies. They'd stopped by to see her on their way back from the hospital and explained that Mommy and Daddy loved her so much, but they needed time to take care of things, and Quinn knew that was enough. It didn't stop the fact that she felt like the world's most terrible mother. Their family was falling apart underneath them, and she didn't have the emotional stability to take care of her daughter, or the physical strength to carry her son to term. What kind of mother was she?

"You can... I mean, you can stay if you want..." Quinn says. She doesn't want to demand it. It's hard enough being around herself in this, she can't imagine how odd it must feel to Santana. "Just... Whatever you want to do." She quietly leans over, resting her head on Santana's shoulder.

That little gesture is all Santana needs to make her decision. She can take care of Beth later, give Mrs. Fabray a break. Right now, Quinn still needs her. "I'm staying. Move your asses. My back's gonna break from being in that car for so long." She kicks her shoes off and flings her legs up onto the bed, bumping her hip against Quinn's to push her more toward the middle. She knows she'll be here for a while, so she's going to make herself comfortable.

Quinn almost smiles. Santana knows her far too well. Gently, so as not to jostle Puck too much, the blonde shifts a little toward the center of their bed, holding Santana close to her side with one arm, and stroking Puck's head with the other. She's not sure when rubbing his head became the comfort gesture of choice, but it makes her feel close to him... connected in a gentle, intimate way, just as it does when he holds her close, her head tucked under his chin, and lets her cry.

Once they're all settled in again, Quinn changes the subject to small talk, trying anything to keep from thinking about what's happened in the last 36ish hours. "How's school going, babe?" she asks.

Santana groans a little, lifting her hand to stroke through Quinn's hair again. "School is school. Senior year, almost the end of the year...they're definitely not going easy on us. But I'll have a fancy degree by the end of it, so." She shrugs her free shoulder.

"You've done great, Santana..." Quinn said. "What with last year, and your mom, and you're still finishing on time? You're amazing." She smiled at her friend, so proud of what she'd accomplished, despite a hell of a lot of obstacles in the way. Faint, but it's there. A smile. She was beginning to wonder if she even _could_ smile anymore.

"The... The funeral's tomorrow," she finally says, interrupting the normal flow of conversation, just as thoughts of Adin continuously interrupt every less than miserable moment of her life since yesterday. She's broken, and hurting, and it'll be a while before thoughts of him stop invading her mind. "Puck and I talked to the rabbi earlier... We weren't sure we'd be able to have a funeral, because... Something about Jewish people and believing that babies aren't people til they could live outside the womb? I don't know... But Adin's a person..." Saying the name hurts... _Really_ hurts. But it makes the point. He is a person, with a name, and people who love him, people whose hearts are broken now that he's gone. "And Rabbi Greenberg was... perfectly understanding of what Puck and I need. What all of us need..." A chance to give the tiny baby boy a real goodbye.

Though the mood hadn't fully lightened, the moment Quinn starts talking about the baby again, Santana swears she feels the air still around her. She may not have been carrying that baby, but she feels just as heartbroken. She nods silently, laying her head against Quinn's. "That's great of him, Q. We'll give Adin a nice goodbye," she whispers. "Anything you need...I'll do it. You don't lift a finger, got it?"

Nodding a little, she realizes that she feels safer right now than she has in a long time. Puck always makes her feel safe, but something about having Santana there, the two people holding her who know her best in the world? It's safe... It's comfortable. Despite the hell she's going through, these two are solid, stable, the strongest thing in her life. And she loves them both. In different ways, obviously, but still. She loves them.

She doesn't want to make Santana feel awkward or anything, but she feels like Santana, as a member of the family, as much as she or Puck or Beth, should have the right to decide if she wants to see the baby. "San... he's... Do you wanna see him?"

Santana shifts, unsure how to respond at first. It hadn't even occurred to her that the baby might be in here, this room, somewhere. She's not sure how to react to it, and it makes her feel the tiniest bit awkward. But, after a little while, she nods. "Sure," she says quietly. "Uhm... where...?"

Quinn notes the discomfort in Santana's tone, and turns to look at her, realizing that the Jewish traditions are probably something Santana's not aware of. "It's... A Jewish thing," she says slowly. "Someone is supposed to stay with the person who... passed... until the burial... It's called... _shmirah_?" She glances at Puck, who confirms that she said it correctly.

"Will you... go get him, love?" she asks Puck, who nods and rises from the bed to go collect the basket, which he places gently in Quinn's lap. He rejoins her on the bed, his hand resting on her back, and she turns back to Santana. "This... This is Adin..." Her voice cracks. They should've been having this moment in a few months, with a beautiful, living baby boy. It just isn't fair.

Santana watches Quinn quietly as she explains the Jewish tradition. It's interesting to her, because she hadn't known that before. Her gaze shifts to Puck as he moves to pick up a basket. A basket she hadn't seen before. She takes a breath and slides forward to look into the basket. Her heart is racing, and she swears she feels it crack when she sees the baby inside. She can't speak, and she feels tears starting to fall. She rests her head against Quinn's again, and she just can't bring herself to speak.

Quinn's eyes fill with tears again as she looks down at her son. "He... He looks so perfect," she whispers. "It just doesn't make sense, San..." She weeps openly as she looks down at Adin, wishing with all of her heart that there was something she could've done to save him. Anything at all, she would've done it. Even giving up her own life, if it would've saved him, she would've.

"I know. It really doesn't, Q. I guess it just...happens. I'm so, _so _sorry, Quinnie." Santana wraps her arms around her friend again and just holds her. There's nothing she can say that will make this better, she knows that, but she will do her damnedest to comfort them both and help out in any way they need.

Quinn lets Santana hold her, and lets herself cry. She needs this. And despite the fact that she and Puck have just woken up from a nap, she's still exhausted, hurting, broken. And she wants to sleep some more. "I'm so tired..." she whispers, choking on the lump in her throat. "So, so tired..."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Santana has been guest-written in this chapter by** iwannabedirty**, who writes regularly at LiveJournal. Thank you!**

written in hearts**, thank you so much! Quinn is terrified of another loss, and while it's understandable that she'd be frightened, we also hope that she'll change her mind. **

dancingdreamers**, we're so glad that you love it! We've been doing our best to work on the story daily, so we hope to continue posting frequent updates. The Rachel we had lined up as a guest writer has been busy with her own pregnancy, but we hope to find another one soon.**

finchelquickftw**, ****when it comes to miscarriage, especially late-term miscarriage such as Quinn's, there can be significant medical complications that can be life-threatening if not ****detected and handled promptly. We felt that it would be best for all involved if Quinn was examined to ensure that nothing was amiss. Thank you for noticing!**

**As always, we'd like to thank our readers and those who put us on Alert and Favorite.**

_**Beth Smith**_** and **_**tinkerbellbones**_


	18. I Won't Always Love These Selfish Things

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Eighteen

"I Won't Always Love These Selfish Things"

* * *

The funeral is hard - _m__iserable_, really, and the hours afterward aren't much better. Quinn spends most of the time clinging to Puck, needing him more than she needs anything else. It hurts burying their only son, but on the other hand, the house isn't so miserable with Beth in it, and things are at least moving toward closure.

The week of _shiva _goes by all too quickly, and Quinn is thankful that Puck has the week off from work. They spend most of their time cuddled together in bed, holding Beth between them, when they don't have visitors or well-meaning chaperons. Their friends and family bring food, and take turns watching over them, but Quinn can barely stomach anything more than the grilled peanut butter and banana sandwiches Puck makes for her.

The guys from Puck's job all go in together to buy a small gravemarker for Adin, and when Puck tells her about it, Quinn can't keep from crying. All of their financial resources lately had been poured into getting her pregnant, and getting her through school, and she'd hated the idea of the only marking being the tiny stone that marked it so it wouldn't be dug up. The stone the guys get for him is perfect, and Quinn personally goes to the worksite one day without telling anyone, just to hug them all and thank them for what they did.

The week ends, and the mourning is over, at least officially, though Quinn's not sure it will ever be over for their little family. Puck returns to work, and Quinn spends the day with her mother, both eager to find something to distract them from the pain and heartache in their house. At the end of the day, Quinn picks Beth up from preschool, bringing her home and playing Barbies and dinosaurs with her until they hear Puck at the door.

A dinner of food brought over by some friends is followed by all three of them cuddling on the couch and watching a movie (_Mulan_. Quinn's not sure they've ever watched this one together, but she's sure Beth will love the girl warrior). It doesn't take long before Beth's asleep, and they shift positions on the couch so that Puck can carry her to bed.

Quinn kisses him, whispering, "I'll be upstairs changing into my pajamas, okay? Do you want a bowl of ice cream or something?"

* * *

His eyes close as she presses a gentle kiss to his lips; everything has seemed slower and more tender with them since the loss of their son [he doesn't really want to call it a death, even if that's what it was, because Adin never really got the chance to _live_]. The two days of chaos, when everything had spun around them and their lives had rapidly shifted to a degree that they hadn't expected [how could one life change things so much?] had passed slowly, feeling as though it had lasted a year. A year of sobbing, of walking from the bedroom down the stairs and to the kitchen only to open and close the refrigerator/freezer/cupboards before turning around and returning to the bedroom and crawling numbly into bed. A year of not shaving, of standing in the shower to cling together to mask the loud sobs and the wet tears, of clutching hands as they'd sat on the couch among their visitors. That was something he'd appreciated about Jewish tradition when Nana Connie had died, and that he'd appreciated even more now that their loss had hit far closer to home. When people visit you in comfort and support, they don't expect you to entertain or even focus on their presence. They visit for you, not for themselves. They'd brought meals, cared for and entertained Beth, and a few close friends had encouraged them to rest together while they'd kept an eye on Beth and ran interference with the friends and family who had arrived and departed in slow cycles. When all had been said and done [when they hadn't had to think, when others had done the thinking for them and the doctor's appointments were done and the funeral arrangements had been made and completed, with their son's body in the ground and wrapped in his mother's blanket as they'd decided] the days had sped by, rapidly passing in a foggy mess of sleeping and waking and trying [and failing] to eat. His mother had known them well, and the loaves of bread, jars of peanut butter, and bunches of bananas had multiplied in their kitchen. _Comfort food_.

His boss hadn't given him any difficulty when he'd used bereavement and sick leave to take a week for _shiva_; even without _shiva_, he would have done it anyway. Quinn was shaky and nearly unrecognizable, and he wasn't much better. Even at work, it would have been difficult to concentrate. Word had gotten around, and the guys visited, one by one, eventually explaining that they'd all pitched in and that the company's boss had arranged for a small marker for the baby. Whether or not the Puckermans could afford it hadn't been the question; their finances were nobody's business but their own, but they'd wanted to do something to help. Their idea had been perfect, even if their business and connections had made it the most sensible one. The fact that everyone had banded together to help them unexpectedly, without obligation or request, had spoken to how he and Quinn had grown since the night they'd conceived Beth, when they were still young and stupid.

The first day back is the hardest one, and the guys take it easy on him. Adam recognizes that the thing he needs most is a distraction, and hands over the keys for the backhoe. He works solid through his breaks, eating a peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich as he leans against the back wheel, checking his messages to ensure that his wife and their daughter are okay. It's all radio silence, and he nearly speeds home, desperate to return. Throwing open the door, he wraps his arms around Quinn, holding her tightly and burying his face in her hair. His hands are dirty, all of him is dirty, and he kisses her lips in desperation before pulling away to shower. It's brief and passes much like the week of _shiva_ had passed [he'd stepped into the shower and then stepped out, and the clock had indicated the passing of time but he hadn't known what he'd done in between], and he changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt before heading downstairs to weakly stomach a meal and focus instead on his girls. "I love you," he murmurs more than once, kissing Quinn's cheek and the top of Beth's head, both of them wrapped in his arms as Beth's head lolls sleepy on her mother's shoulder. _This is all I need._

Mulan saves the day, and gets her man, and everything's happy and perfect and has the special kind of ending that you never really get when you live in the real world [complete with a snarky red dragon]. They shift piece by piece, much like the slotted puzzles with one piece missing that are shifted to form a picture, until he can place his feet on the floor with a sleeping Beth in his arms. "I'll be up in five," he murmurs, leaning towards her. "No ice cream."

His eyes close as she presses a gentle kiss to his lips; everything has seemed slower and more tender with them since the loss of their son [he doesn't really want to call it a death, even if that's what it was, because Adin never really got the chance to _live_].

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**This is a short chapter; the next few are written and are far longer, rest assured!  
**

written in hearts**, thank you so much! We enjoy writing together in other areas and with Puck and Quinn in other situations, and we hope to write more after the completion of **L'Chayim**. **

olacindy**, we're glad that you like this story so far! We're really stretching our creative legs, so to speak, when it comes to writing it, and we're so happy that it's well-received. Thank you for letting us know that you're watching, and we hope that you enjoy the rest!**

finchelquickftw**, we absolutely agree! Our guest writer for Santana has some insights into her character that really bring a richness to the character ****that we often only see when Santana is near Brittany on Glee itself. The remaining chapters will not move as slowly, and we hope that you enjoy the change in pace.**

lucklessforhim**, ****wow! ****Thank you so much for all that you say - it's really great to hear specific things that seem to work, or things that might not make as much sense to readers. Our guest writer for Santana, **iwannabedirty** at LiveJournal, is a fantastic writer, and we were thrilled that she agreed to write for and with us. We hope that we do justice to Puck and Quinn and their relationship as the story progresses. [Oh, Sophia Lowell's books are certainly interesting - give them a read if you have the time!]**


	19. I'm Miles from Where You Are

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Nineteen

"I'm Miles from Where You Are"

* * *

With Beth tucked into bed, her arm wrapped around her father's old football jersey [#20], he pads barefoot upstairs to their bedroom. Every day takes some of the heaviness from his walk, the feeling that he's so much older than he actually is. At twenty-two, nearly twenty-three, he's married, with a five-year-old daughter, a home, a steady job, and a son in the ground. It's more than anyone he knows has ever done. It's sobered him some, sharply contrasting with the Puckzilla who had terrorized the halls of McKinley and hung unsuspecting freshmen from the flagpole by their underwear. "I'm here," he calls softly, crossing the threshold of their bedroom as he opens the door with a soft push.

Quinn had needed a bowl of ice cream herself, though she'd only eaten a few bites before sticking it back in the freezer. After that is done, she's upstairs, changing into her pajamas, and desperately thankful for the man she married, and how tender he is with their child - their only child, and the only child they'll _ever _have now, as far as Quinn is concerned. Adin is proof to her that she asked for too much, that she couldn't be satisfied with what she was given, and she pushed too hard for more. Why she wasn't happy with what she had before, she'll never know. But she won't push again, won't tempt fate, or G-D, or whatever else is out there, giving and taking away. The problem now is Puck. He wants to try again, and Quinn doesn't even know how to begin to say no to him about it.

Still, when he comes into the room, she closes the space between them quickly, wrapping him in her arms as she does. The day without him was far too long, and she's so thankful that he's home again, here with her. Pushing up on her tiptoes, she kisses him gently, softly, clinging to him like he's the buoy keeping her afloat. And in so many ways, he is. "I - I missed you today," she whispers as she pulls away, moving toward the bed.

"I missed you, too," he responds, wrapping his arms around her ribs as she turns to walk back to the bed. "Hey, slow down." His arms drag heavy on her torso, and they walk together to bed. Her kiss is still familiar on his lips, and he boosts her lightly into the bed before pausing to ditch his sweats and shirt, climbing in naked after her and wrapping her soundly in his arms. A hand half-cups the span between her stomach and waist, the skin there not as muscular as it had been a year ago, before any of this had happened, and not as firm and bulging as it had been only weeks previously. "What did you do today?" he murmurs, pressing his forehead to hers and tugging her tight against his body. "I got to use the backhoe. It kept my mind off things, 'cuz I had to concentrate, which was kind of what the guys had in mind. But I still really missed you, Quinn. I got used to being with you and holding you... like this."

"I spent the day at my mom's while Beth was in school," Quinn says softly, trying not to focus on the emotional anguish of his hand lying where their child used to be. "Then I brought her home, and we played Barbies and dinosaurs, and then you came home." She shrugs, closing her eyes as they lie together.

"Long day," she says, her tone still soft and gentle as she rests her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad you're home."

She squeezes her eyes shut, not really wanting to do anything else, or talk about anything else. She's ready to go to sleep.

Her voice is soft and distant; the sorrow will take a long time to abate, and he understands. It's barely been a week. "How's your mom doing?" he asks gently; he hasn't spoken much to Judy in this whole mess. She hadn't known what to do except to support them and take Beth when necessary, which he had appreciated; it was more natural for him to let his mother coordinate with Rabbi Greenberg, letting her tell people what they could do and how they could help. Judy had been supportive rather than involved. "How's Bee handling all of this? She seems okay, you know? I don't know if she doesn't get it or she's just not handling it good." Beth is Beth, although a little more subdued, clinging to her parents more than she had before Adin's loss. Puck's lips press to Quinn's forehead, soft and tender, and his hand slides around to stroke her back. There is so much he wants to say, but he doesn't know how to say it or if he even should say it.

"Mom's fine," she says softly. "It was good to talk to her today... She's... She's changed so much." Gone was the woman who'd quivered under the fear of public disapproval. She's become so much braver in the wake of Beth's birth and the life that Puck and Quinn have chosen. She even supports Quinn's choice to convert to Judaism. It's been a long road, but things between Quinn and her mother are finally really good. "I don't know what we would've done without her and _Bubbeh_."

"I wish I knew how Beth is handling it," she says softly, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. "I just don't - I can't figure it out. She's so young, but she knows how sad we are. She knows that she's not having a little brother or sister." She sighs, relaxing against his hand on her back. "I think she understands. Probably better than we think she does."

"I'm glad you had a good day at work," she says finally, looking up at him. She can see the conflict in his eyes, and she is almost certain she knows the root of it. Still, she can't help asking. "Puck, are you - Is there something wrong?" Besides the obvious, of course.

He takes a deep breath, slowly and shakily releasing it. He can't hide from her. "I'm still having a really hard time with this," he confesses, gently kissing her lips. He needs the comfort as their eyes meet, his fingertips stroking along the hollow of her spine. She still carries the extra weight around her waist. "I mean, all the baby stuff we have. We've been wanting this for so long and, like - Quinn, it feels like it's the only thing that's gonna help," he finally blurts out, unable to keep anything a secret from his wife. He's never been able to hide his feelings from her, even when they were just beginning their relationship five years ago; the biggest secret he'd ever kept from her was his plans for their wedding, and only because it was crucial that she be surprised. For this, he needs her on board; the heartache is too great and he can't do this on his own. "Dr. Wu said they could sew you up so it doesn't happen again, and if they did there was like _no_ chance this would happen, and we didn't go through all of that to just give up. Please, Quinn," he begs softly. "When Dr. Wu says we can try again, that it's safe, I want to try. I need this. We... we need this. And I know it's fuckin' scary but he says if you get the stitches, it won't happen again. I can do the research if you want." His voice is soft and pleading, knowing that he's asking for so much, just after the loss of their son, but nothing **- **_nothing _- save another child will fill this hole inside of him, within their home and family.

Quinn had known this was coming, though she'd tried hard to avoid it. And now, as he says the words, she simply stares at him in silence. She's put it off over and over, tried to avoid it. And now he's asking her, flat out, plain, honest. And there is nothing she can do but answer him directly, no matter how much it hurts him. She dreads the pain she knows she'll see in his eyes when she tells him no. Still, she shakes her head slowly. "No - Puck, no. I'm not going to do this again. I'm sorry. I can't. I just..." Tears fill her eyes, because she hates... _hates_... hurting him, and she knows that it's exactly what she's doing. But she just can't open herself up to pain like this again.

He waits - for what, he's not sure - but it seems with a soft shake of her head that she's already made up her mind, much like she had before Beth was born. _I'm giving her __up. I can't do this on my own._ And... she'd _kept _Beth, and they've come so far since then. She won't even consider the alternative, that they could safely and successfully have a child now that they know what's wrong. _No. I__'m not going to do this again__._ "Quinn," he begs softly, devastation beginning to etch itself on his face. They've taken a year to make this happen, and it had only happened because she had begged. She'd pleaded for the chance at another child, and he'd gotten the reversal - which hadn't been cheap - and he'd waited a month to even get it up and even _longer_ than that to make love to her again. When they'd finally done it, finally _tried_, it had taken them months and they hadn't conceived until their last-ditch resort, a suggestion from Rabbi Greenberg in the Orthodox tradition of waiting two weeks from the beginning of Shark Week for "cleansing purposes." Quinn had entered a _mikvah_ [a ritual cleansing immersion], they'd made love that night, and they'd learned several weeks later that it had finally worked. Their journey has taken them through so much - happiness and pain and patience and heartache - and she wants to end it _now_? The grief is understandable. Wanting to wait is understandable. But... never again?

"No," he shakes his head. "_No_." He repeats the word more firmly, as though he's convinced that it will change her mind. "But we _can_. It won't happen again as long as you get the stitches. Dr. Wu wouldn't tell us that if it wasn't true. _Fuck_, Quinn, just - just don't say _no_. Say _maybe_, or _yes_, but don't say _no_."

Quinn's heart breaks as he looks at her, his own hurt and heartbreak showing plainly in the familiar lines of his face. She knows his emotions as well as she knows her own, and this one? Is the purest pain she's seen in him since they laid Adin in the ground. She hates herself for this, but she just _can't_ do this again. It hurts too much, and sure, Dr. Wu said that it could be fixed this time, but she doesn't trust that. "Dr. Wu told me Adin was healthy, too!" she replies, her throat sore from the knot she's sure she's going to choke on.

The pain and desperation in his voice threaten her resolve, and she raises her hands, pressing them between him, going to her default way of handling pain before their life together began: pushing people away. Physically, in this case, as she separates her body from Puck's in their bed. "No. Puck, please don't ask me to do this again... I will spend every single day scared to death. I _can't_. I just can't, and - Please don't..."

He feels the push of her hands as space comes between them, and his jaw drops. "He _w__as_ healthy!" he insists. "It wasn't _Adin_ that made this happen!" He stops short of blaming her body, because she doesn't need _that_. "It's like Nana Connie with cancer, the cancer wasn't her fault but it was her body doing it. It's your cervix that did it. It opened early and that's why he died but Dr. Wu can _fix_ that. He can put the stitches in and stop it from happening again." It's not uncommon and he doesn't understand why she can't _accept_ that fact. "I got the reversal for you. This never would have happened if you didn't ask me to think about it and now I'm fucking _asking_ you - I _need _this," he begs. "And I know you need it, too, even if you're scared. You need to know you can do it and we can have a healthy baby we get to keep. Don't ask me to stop needing it. I can't stop."

"So it's my fault?" she demands, stabbing pain in her heart as she interprets his words to be a confirmation of what she's feared and suspected all along. "I killed our son, is that what you're saying, Puck? Maybe next time the doctor can fix it so I won't kill our baby?" She's blinded by angry tears. "_No! _Dammit, Puck... Why are you asking me to do this? Our son has been in the ground what, a week? And you want me to replace him?" She scoots farther from him in the bed so that she's not touching him at all.

"Was it Nana Connie's fault that she got cancer?" he counters, his gaze flashing; he's suddenly no longer tired. They _will_ have this out. "No. It's not her fucking fault. She didn't want it. Her body made it happen anyway. And it was too late and she was too old and nothing could fix it. People's bodies fuck up all the time, okay? Yours is amazing but your cervix is too weak and when the baby gets too big, it opens up. Like putting groceries in a plastic bag and then the bag breaks." That's what Dr. Wu had explained to them, and he'd done his fair share of Googling, hunting for statistics. "I'm not asking you to replace him because we _can't_ replace him!" he cries in a whisper. "We can _never_ fucking replace him, okay? He's _gone_. But we can have _more_. You're _healthy_. He was _fine_. We went through all this shit and tried and got the reversal and spent a ton of money we could have spent on something else but we wanted this so bad that we spent it on _this_, on having a bigger family because it's what you _wanted_, it's what we _both_ wanted. And now you're too fucking scared to even try again even when we _know_ what went wrong and how we can fix it so it _doesn't_ happen again! I'm scared, _too_, Quinn, okay? I don't wanna go _through_ this again, I'm not _strong_ enough for this, but I can't fucking _give up_ like this. We worked so hard to get here. We _never_ gave up on _anything_ before. Ever. Don't start now."

"Do you think that's what this is, Puck? Giving up? Just me taking the easy way out, because I'm the hateful bitch who always wants things her way?" She aches to move back into his arms, but something in her won't let her. She and Puck are standing firmly on opposite sides of a line, and if she lets him hold her, she's afraid she'll give in. She gets up from the bed taking her pillow. "Don't do this to me right now, Puck. _Don't._"

"That's not true!" he explodes. "That's _not_ what I think about you, don't you fucking get it? I _know_ you're scared, Quinn! I know! I'm scared out of my fucking mind for this to happen again. I'm twenty-three. I'm not supposed to be _going_ through this." He repeats, more softly, reaching out for her in supplication. "I'm scared, too. I'm so scared. But running... what are we gonna do? Go on birth control forever? Use condoms? Quinn, I can't. I _need_ to be with you. It feels like there's this huge hole in our family and Adin wasn't gonna be the last baby for us, anyway, remember? We wanted more than two, at least three. And I was okay with that. We're not gonna replace him or forget him. We won't let Beth forget him. We'll visit him, and do _yahrzeit _[the remembrance of a death anniversary], and everything." He kneels on the bed, hand still outstretched, just breaths away from crying. "Don't say no. Just don't - don't say no. At least give me a maybe. We went through so much to get here, please don't say no."

Quinn's eyes fill with tears as her husband begs her not to say no. His eyes reflect his deep pain, and she knows how hard this is for him. Puck isn't the type to beg, and Quinn knows that this has to be killing him inside. He reaches out for her, and she stares at his hand, clutching her pillow even tighter. Her eyes focus on his hand because she can't look him in the eye. She's shaking with emotion, between longing for the safety of his arms, and hanging on stubbornly to her choice not to have another baby. "Being on birth control doesn't mean you can't be with me..." she says, hoping that, somehow, concentrating on the part of what he said that _**isn't**_specifically begging her to give him the chance to have another baby will make this easier.

She doesn't take his hand, but she doesn't walk away. "Puck, please... I need you to understand."

She cries, and he thinks for a moment that maybe he has a shot. That _no_ will turn into a _maybe_ and she'll crawl into bed and he'll hold her and everything will be okay. "The birth control doesn't _matter_," he says, his voice almost harsh. "You've _never_ been on it, Quinn. _Ever_. And you _know_ there was something different, so fucking _amazing_ about making love after the reversal. It was like, every time we did it, we thought maybe it was that time. Or the time after that. That maybe _one_ of those times worked and we had something else that we did together that was just as good as Beth, and maybe I could be a dad from the start and we could have something amazing _together_." Her pregnancy with Beth had been fraught with lies and disappointment and fear and resentment, and all of that was supposed to end after the reversal. "I _can't_ understand, when the statistics are good, when this _happens_ and Dr. Wu can _fix it_ so it _won't_ happen again. It _works_, Quinn. You won't even _try_ to think about it. You're just saying no because you're scared. And I get that you're scared," he says quickly. "I get it. And I'm scared, too, but being scared isn't even _close_ to being as important as another baby, a bigger family, another chance to get all of it right, the pregnancy thing and the dad thing and me getting to be there for _all_ of it this time. That's more important to me than being scared when we don't have to _be _scared." His chest heaves with the emotional weight and the words that have spilled from his lips; taking his pillow in hand just as she grasps hers, he slides naked from the bed and scoops his underwear from the floor. "You can take the bed. You're still - hurt."

She stands in stunned silence as Puck gets a pillow and his underwear together and tells her to take their bed. In the middle of all of this, what they need more than anything is each other, but she's pushing him away. Quinn Puckerman is stubborn. Horribly stubborn. And she's convinced herself not to give in. Once he's out of the bed, she slides in, tucking her pillow under her head.

With a nod, he slides into his underwear - first one foot and then the other - and heads toward the hallway. The linen closet is past the master bathroom, and he rummages in there for a set of sheets to fit the pull-out couch in the playroom. He works in silence, preparing the couch as he'd done so many times before for their guests, friends and family; he's sleeping in a separate bed by choice for only the second time since their relationship began.

Quinn is silent, eyes closed, trying to focus on going to sleep, but all she can think about is how they are going through the most painful experience of their lives without each other. It's her fault. All he asked was for her to consider it, and she refused to do even that. It isn't fair to him after all he went through to be able to give her another baby. But the thought of carrying another baby in her body and being afraid for however long before the baby is either born, or they lose it, too? She can't do that.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she's still awake, her eyes on the clock. In a moment of weakness, she tosses back the blankets, rising from the bed and grabbing her pillow. Padding barefoot down the hall, she slips into the playroom. Somehow she'd known he would be there, and not on the couch downstairs. He will stay as close to her as she'll let him, and she knows that without even thinking about it. She can barely make out the shape of his body in the fold out bed, and she can't tell if he's awake or not. So she is quiet and careful as she slips into the bed beside him, pulling the blanket over her body.

He waits in the bed, doing his best to sleep, losing track of how much time is passing. The minutes drag for hours and he wonders if he'll ever sleep; he's distracted when the frame and mattress shift with the added weight of - _Quinn_, he thinks, rolling over and automatically reaching out for her. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice laced with exhaustion. "I love you. I don't wanna fight, I just want it to stop hurting, but... talk tomorrow. Not now. I love you. Don't leave me."

Shaking her head, she lets him hold her, kissing his chin. "I'll never leave you... I'm sorry. I didn't want to fight with you... I'm sorry... I love you." She puts her arms around him, eyes drifting shut. The fight is over, and she needs him right now more than she needs to be right, or even needs to win this fight, right or wrong. "I love you..." she repeats again, eyes drifting shut.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Chapter Nineteen was a bit longer than normal, and it was posted very quickly. Please be patient; we are still working on the upcoming chapters! We do plan to shift the focus and "genre" of this story, so please consider yourselves forewarned! [And possibly spoiled. Enjoy!]**

quinnfabrayxxx**, it is wonderful to hear from you again! Thank you for taking the time to let us know that you are still enjoying our story. Our Santana is wonderful and you can read more of her work at **iwannabedirty**LiveJournal. **

dancingdreamers**, it seems that Santana was very well received by our readers. We hope that her guest writer will have the opportunity and time to return. Thank you!**

written in hearts**, thank you! We hope to write more for Quick, and we have several ideas at this point. However, we'd like to devote our attention to **L'Chayim** until it's completed.**

**As always, thanks to our readers and those who add us on Favorites or Story Alert.**

**_Beth Smith_ and _tinkerbellbones_**


	20. Buildings Will Crumble&Statues Will Fall

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Twenty

"Buildings Will Crumble and Statues Will Fall"

* * *

"I won't lie to you," Dr. Wu tells Quinn bluntly as Puck stands to her side, his arms wrapped around her ribs. "You _can_ get pregnant again, but the only way you can treat incompetent cervix is by stitching the cervix closed around twelve weeks, a cerclage. Your chance of a successful pregnancy is about 85 to 90%, but your chances can get even better with bed rest. The procedure is an outpatient surgery with a spinal anesthetic, and the cerclage will be removed when you're full-term. I know that it might not be what you want to hear right now," and Puck nods because he's _already_ had this discussion with her, "but with everything that you've been through since Beth's birth, I want to make sure you know that the chance of you having another healthy baby are very, _very_, good, but you'll need a cerclage. If we'd caught it in time, Quinn," Dr. Wu explains regretfully, "we could have placed an emergency cerclage to keep you from dilating with your son. There were no signs that it would be a problem, but, now that we know, we can keep it from happening again. High-risk care, monitoring, frequent appointments and ultrasounds, and the cerclage - and bed rest, if you can or you need it. You need to know that it's possible, and that your chances are good now that we know what's wrong and how to fix it."

Puck says nothing; he hugs her more tightly, kissing the curve of his wife's neck as she reclines on the examination table. "Please," he whispers, so that only she can hear. "Just - think about it. Think about our chances. They're so good."

Quinn hears the doctor, but she's not really listening. All that is happening here is that she and Puck are being given false hope, at least in her mind. Being pregnant will scare her too much, and she knows that Puck needs it, but she needs to _not_ do this again. A success rate of 85-90% means a failure rate of 10-15%, and Quinn is horrified of what failure means here.

They leave the appointment together, and Quinn is silent. Puck asked her to think about it, but she doesn't want to. She can't. It hurts so damn much to even think about it. Her hand finds his without even looking, and she holds it as they ride in silence.

Even after the appointment, with all of the thoughts swimming in his head, he can't bring himself to speak; he's afraid of the answers he'll get, the things she'll say to him. _You can resume... intercourse... whe__never you're ready_, Dr. Wu had told them. _Your body is healing well. They have support groups, or you could find a private counselor or someone from your temple. Sometimes, loss like this is difficult to handle, because people don't take it seriousl__y. You should look into those if you feel that you need more support_. Puck already has, even if he hasn't mentioned his sneaky Internet searches to Quinn. "Do you want to, tonight?" he asks quietly. "I miss you. It might help us, both of us."

Quinn looks up at him, surprised to even hear him speak; the ride has been so quiet. "Y - you mean make love?" she asks, her eyes tired as she looks at him. "I love you. We - we can if you want to."

"If you're feeling okay," he clarifies. "I mean, I don't want you to hurt if it's too soon." Despite the fact that Dr. Wu had given them the clearance, he isn't exactly sure what will change, and he doesn't want to hurt her as he does his best to figure it out. "But I miss you, and it's kinda what we always do when we need each other or life is sucking. If you want to, I mean - we're gonna have to stop, pick up some condoms." He glances at Quinn as he turns the corner, signaling to the right. "Just - it's your call."

The idea of sex with condoms is extremely strange to Quinn. Mainly because she has never had sex with a condom in her entire nearly 23 years. The first time had been the night Beth was conceived, and when she and Puck started having sex again, he'd had the vasectomy, and after the reversal? Well, sex without protection was kind of the point. She looks at him. "We - we can stop and get condoms. I want to..." And she does. Sex with him is sometimes the only thing Quinn needs, as crazy as it sounds. It's been their way of getting through the hard times, enjoying the good, and everything in between, and when she thinks about the comfortable familiarity of his body, she really does want it.

She takes a few moments, appearing to think about his words, before she nods. He _hates_ it; he hasn't used condoms since he and Quinn had fixed things. Between the vasectomy and the _trying_ to get pregnant, they haven't needed them, and he hates the idea of having to go back to using them - with his _wife_. "Whatever you want," he tells Quinn quietly, squeezing her hand. "I kinda hoped you'd say we didn't have to use them. I mean..." It took them long enough to get pregnant with Adin, and that was only after seeking guidance from Rabbi Greenberg and their doctors. "I don't know. It's what you want, okay? I can't fight with you again."

"What?" she asks, turning to look at him. "What do you mean? Don't we have to use them? I don't..." He says he can't fight anymore, and she's with him on that. she doesn't want to fight. Their lives have been torn apart enough without them tearing at each other. She kisses his hand gently. "I'm sorry." She looks up at him out of tired, pained eyes. "I don't want..." To fight anymore. To get pregnant. To hurt him. Why can't she vocalize any of those things?

"Sweetheart, you know I love you... right?" she asks tentatively.

"I know you do," he murmurs, glancing downward for a brief moment as he pulls into the pharmacy near their house, stopping the car without turning it off. "I love you, too. I just - it's hard enough losing him, you know? We tried for so fucking long and it _finally_ worked and it's not like we knew this would happen." He exhales, turning to look at his wife. "We're both dealing with it, and we've never, like - it's always been you and me. No pills, no condoms, no planning, none of that shit. Even when we were trying to get you pregnant, we did it because we loved each other and wanted it, and when we waited like Rabbi Greenberg said we should try, we did it because we loved each other and wanted it. Now, like, if we get you on birth control or we use condoms? It's because we're scared. You're scared. And I get it. I'm scared, too. I, just - I changed for you, Quinn." He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb. "I'm not trying to be like, hey, look at everything I did for you, but - I changed and you, me, it started being about love and not about anything else. I changed because I loved you and I wanted to be that guy for you and Beth. And it wasn't about anything else, just love." He steels himself for his next words, as though he can _feel_ his vagina growing as he speaks. "I feel like it's not just gonna be about love anymore. It's gonna be about us being scared, and I don't wanna be. Like, if we tell ourselves we're gonna be fine as long as we use condoms, and one breaks? Or we wake up in the middle of the night and do it? We're gonna freak out and - be _scared_. I don't want us being like that. And since it took us doing the _niddah _thing for you to get pregnant, even when we were doing it, like, every day before that, I mean - isn't it gonna be, like, just as hard for you to get pregnant again?" Leaning forward, he rests his head against the steering wheel. "Pretend I didn't say any of that shit. We'll do whatever you want."

Quinn watches him carefully as he speaks, talking about how everything they've done since they got back together their junior year has been about love. It's true. She doesn't want to be scared, either, but she _**is**_. She's terrified. Scared to death. The thought of being pregnant again is one that terrifies her, and the thought of having sex unprotected and opening themselves up to that possibility scares her even more. Everything he says is true, and she doesn't want to hurt him anymore. She watches him as he presses his head to the steering wheel. "Noah, I love you... I don't want to be afraid, but I am..." Her eyes fill with tears as she leans toward him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, taking his hand in both of hers and pressing it to her chest.

He's right. That thought keeps repeating in her mind. It had taken them so long, _so painfully _long to conceive Adin. And only after they'd started waiting two weeks (Shark Week and the week after) had they been able to conceive. The odds couldn't be that terribly good of her getting pregnant again. Part of her cries out that this is just Puck's way of getting what he wants... Another baby. But the greater part says that this is his way of dealing with his pain... the familiarity of making love to his wife as they always have. She squeezes his hand tight and nods. "Okay... Okay, Noah... Let's go home..."

It takes him a moment to realize what she's said. _Let's go home._ Not, _park the car, I'll go inside and buy them_, but, _let's go home_. He squeezes her hand once more and shifts the car to Drive. "I love you," he murmurs again, dropping her hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer on the bench seat of the truck. "I need you. This - we're gonna get through this," he reassures himself just as much as he tries to comfort her. "Are you - I mean, do you think I should save up and go get it done again?" He doesn't know how recommended it is, medically speaking, to get a vasectomy and then a reversal, only to get a second vasectomy about a year later.

The idea of him having to have his reversal reversed makes her heart ache. They went through so much - saved up their money, cut corners, and used their tax refund. Then there had been the recovery period, the subsequent wedding, and the months of trying. She slides close to him, curling against his side quietly. "I - I don't know." It all feels like such a waste, having him redo the vasectomy, but she doesn't want to get pregnant again. "Noah..." she whispers softly. His first name used to be something she said when he did something special, like her seal of approval. But she has come to use it more and more since their wedding and, since the loss of their son, she's called him little else. He is her rock, her strength. And in being those things, he has lost almost every trace of Puck. He is not the wild rash boy she once knew. He is steady, thoughtful, careful, gentle... a strong man where a hard, frightened boy had once been. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," he reassures her, making the turn and navigating the roads to their house. "I told you, I'm scared, too." _The difference between us is I_ need _this, and I'm not too__ scared to try again. You are._ "Just think about it, okay? I don't wanna, but we do what we have to do. We just have to get through this. We don't have to - today - you know? We can wait. Until we figure out what we," _you_, "are gonna do." He brakes, approaching their driveway, and pulls his truck in to park it beside her Camry. "I might hang out with Kurt later or something, okay?" he half-asks, half-announces, stretching in his seat before unlocking the truck's door. "With everything and going back to work and shit, I kind of just wanna break out my guitar and some wine and relax. Kurt was pretty awesome with Beth, you know?" Kurt had taken Beth for the day when Puck had left work early only to deliver his son in his upstairs bathtub. "I miss our bro time. We did that a lot before last Hanukkah." When they'd learned that Quinn was pregnant, and their family had become their sole focus. "That okay? I won't do it unless you're cool with it."

"It - it's fine..." she says, glancing out the window as he parks the truck, pulling away from him just a little to climb out the passenger's side door. She waits for him to get out of the truck and walks over to him, slipping her arms around his waist. He'll have to leave for work shortly, and she doesn't want him to leave with the feeling that there's something between them.

"Noah," she whispers softly. "Please don't stop loving me." It's stupid... a stupid thing to say, a stupid thing to even think. He won't stop loving her. He never has. "I love you - I want you - tonight. Please? You can go hang out with Kurt, but please come home to me?" She feels like she's choking, like everything is falling apart again. She wants to go back to the way things were before... Before what, she's not sure, but certainly before they lost Adin.

"Babe," he breathes as she wraps her arms around him and presses her head to his chest; he automatically cups one hand over her head and the other arm pulls her into a close embrace. "I love you, okay? I'll never stop. We've been through a lot, and I'm sure as fuck not gonna stop now. I - I can put the Kurt thing on hold, we can dress up, go out to dinner. Come home. Be together. Don't feel like - like I'm leaving. I'm not. I'm right here, I'm just - this is hard. Wanting something so bad and having to give it up. Quinn, it's like... how you felt when I kept telling you I didn't wanna get the reversal or get married. How scared I was about that shit. But the two of us, we can get through _anything_. I can't - I wanna convince you, _so_ bad, but I can't. Nothing I say's gonna change your mind." He kisses her forehead tenderly. "I just gotta deal with it. But I'm not leaving you. Swear."

"I don't want dinner," she whispers softly, her body curled against him as they stand together in front of the little house that should be so full of joy right now, awaiting Adin's arrival, instead of full of hurt and pain, having already bid him goodbye. "Just - grab us something on the way home from work. We'll put Beth down to bed together, and then - just be together."

She pauses. "Sweetheart, if you want to hang out with Kurt... It's okay, I'll be here when you get back." There is a deep longing in her in this moment, to just be with him. To forget everything, forget how scared she is, forget how much she's hurting, and give him what he's asking for. But she just... _can't_. She can't do it, no matter how hard she tries to tell herself to. She can't. "Whatever you want... I'm not going anywhere."

Dinner, public, going out - it's a distraction for them and a means to avoid particularly emotional conversation. "I just feel like being with you, I'm gonna want it too much and keep begging you, and you're gonna hate me for it," he whispers, his lips pressed gently to the shell of her ear. "Like we're gonna lie in bed and I'm just gonna want to hold your belly," something he'd done for years, but with more meaning since the point when they decided that they _wanted_ more children together, "and you're gonna hate me. Like the night I went to sleep in the playroom." He remembers that night vividly, how he'd begged Quinn to even _consider_ the idea of getting pregnant again, and how she'd met him with an unwavering, _No_. "I want to be with you, but... it's not whatever I want. I want our son back, and I want to try for more kids, and I can't have that. And if I push you too hard, you'll leave." He's thoroughly convinced of that fact. "I love you, but it can't be whatever I want."

"I..." She stares at him for a moment as he finishes his little speech. "Puck - Noah, I..." The night he slept in the playroom was over a month ago, but it's still something that hurts her when she thinks about it. She hates hurting him so much, but this? This is something she feels that she can't back down on. "You were right..." she whispers, forcing the words out through the tightness in her throat. Her eyes are full of pain as she looks up at him, arms draped loosely around his neck. "You were right, and I should've listened to you."

He is genuinely confused; with a tilt of his head, he tries to discern what, exactly, was _righ__t_. "What's... huh?" He brushes his lips over her forehead, because - regardless - she's still his wife, he still loves her forever, and it _kills_ him to see her in this kind of pain. "What's right, babe? What should you have listened to?"

She chokes on tears as she speaks again. "You said - you were worried if you got the reversal it would change us. We were _good _before then. We were happy..." She peers up at him out of tear filled eyes as she tries to think of any way to make this better again. "We're not happy anymore. I don't think you'll ever be happy with me again. Not without another baby..."

When she cries, he pulls her closer, kissing her hair as he tries to soothe her. "We could adopt," he murmurs desperately, even though he wants pregnancy, and birth, and _experience _instead of just the end result of a child. "Be the kind of parents we would have wanted for Beth. We - I don't want her to be by herself." He doesn't voice the suspicion he has that he might be right, that there will always be a baby-sized hole that nothing will fill. "The reversal didn't change us. Being scared changed us. If Adin was still here, we wouldn't even, like, be talking about this. We talk about it, we changed things, because we were scared." He exhales in a soft sigh. "I'm - sorry, you know? I wish this was different or I could just let it go."

"Noah..." she says softly, pressing her body close to his. "You... don't want to adopt... You want me to be pregnant again." He's made it plain to her time and again what he wants. Her arms are tight around his neck as she speaks carefully, slowly, through a fear and pain that threatens to tear them apart. She wants to be strong for him, just as he's been strong for her. She wants to let him, just this once, have the thing _he_ wants, too. Even though it's killing her. "Noah... I'm... I'm so scared. I'm _terrified_, baby. I..." She admits it for the first time. "I want another baby, too... I never _stopped _wanting that. But I'm so scared."

He lowers his head, kissing her neck softly. "I do," he admits. "I didn't care last year before we started talking about it, but now - Q, I can't stop thinking about it. Every time I see a kid out at the store, or a pregnant chick, I want it. I know you're scared. I don't want it to happen again, but... I don't know what to do. It's a stand-still or jump kinda thing, you know? We either do it or we don't. And if we do it, we work our asses off to make sure you and the baby are okay. I'll do anything - _anything_ - to keep you guys safe." But, more than that, he doesn't know what to do.

"I don't..." Don't what? She's come up with every excuse in the book to say no, to shut him down, and every single time, he's been there, strong, steady, with the promise that, no matter what, they would get through this together, and he would be there. "I don't want to try again," she says softly, trying to think of the best way to phrase this, to compromise instead of demanding her way. She's Quinn Puckerman. She used to be Quinn Fabray, and that stubborn and sometimes horribly selfish side? It's still there to some extent. It's hard to talk herself into compromising when she's so sure she's right.

"But..." She presses her hand softly to his cheek, looking him in the eye. "We don't have to try not to, okay?" Everything in her is crying out that she's opening herself up to more pain, more heartache. But she loves him, and this is one of the _very_ few things he's ever asked her for, consistently, almost to the point of begging. Noah Puckerman doesn't beg, and Quinn _knows _that if she keeps giving him a firm no? She'll lose him. He may not leave, but he will be lost to her forever one way or another. "If it happens, it happens. If not..." She shrugs, looking up at him. "That's the most I can promise you, Noah... I'm sorry."

In their past, seconds - tiny moments - have made the difference. It had taken one moment, one encounter, to conceive Beth. It had taken another moment, as she skimmed through his phone on the thirtieth day before kissing his lips, for them to be a couple again. It took another moment for him to ask her to be his bride, and another moment when she held his hand and stayed with him two days after her birthday as he went under anesthesia for his reversal. It had taken a moment to learn that she was pregnant with Adin, their second child, and a moment for all hell to break loose with the realization that they were losing their son. In a moment, _now_, she changes the _no_ she'd given him for six weeks to a _maybe_.

He wraps his arms even more tightly around her and hugs, pressing grateful kisses to her neck. "Thank you," he whispers. "_Thank you_. That's _all_ I wanted, baby. All I wanted is for you to be okay if it happened and not stop it from happening. I can't - I couldn't make love to you if I knew you'd hate it that much, being pregnant again... with my baby... even if I was right here with you. I'm here, I'm with you, I'm in this, and I'm gonna fuckin' stock up on pregnancy tests at the Dollar Store 'cuz if we get lucky and it happens, then I wanna make sure you and the baby are okay. I - _fuck_- I love you, baby. I love you. That's all I want. And I'll be right here and I'll do everything I can do to take care of you guys."

Quinn can't explain the wash of relief that floods her as Puck pulls her close, declaring his love for her and and his gratitude that she's rethinking this. She clings helplessly to his body as they stand together, promising her that he's going to make sure that she and any possible future baby they might have are all right. _I couldn't make love to you if I knew you'd hate it that much._ Her heart breaks all over again. It hits her how close they were only a moment ago to falling apart. An image of what their life would've been like strikes her... A life where she slept on the opposite side of the bed from him every night... where they gave each other chaste little kisses before leaving for work and after getting home more for Beth's benefit than any other reason. And that life? Isn't enough for her. She _loves _this man with all her heart, and she can't lose him. The thought of that hollow shell of a marriage is enough to tear her to pieces aside, and she buries her face, eyes full of tears, in his strong shoulder. "I don't want to lose you..." she says, though her words are muffled in his shoulder. "I love you. I love you so much, Noah... I can't lose you... I need you."

_I couldn't make love to you if I knew you'd hate i__t that much._ It's nearly the mirror image of what she'd screamed at him when she'd first mentioned the topic of having more children via a vasectomy reversal, and he'd promptly stood against the idea. They already had Beth, he'd argued. They were happy and they had a good and stable life. Why change that? She'd screamed at him, crying and asking what was so horrible about having more children with _her_, and watching _her_ carry his babies, and why Beth - their at-the-time mistake - was going to be it for them, if he thought the idea of having more children with her was that awful. It had taken some time, but he'd reconsidered, and had become just as eager, if not more eager, for the reversal and the chance to conceive again as Quinn was. Now, he's the one begging for the children, for a second chance, and she's the one denying him. No matter who answered _no_, it was going to affect their lives and their relationship. They've each taken a leap of faith, and they're better for it. Their _family _is better for it, even if they're more battle-scarred and weary than they were previously.

"I love you, too," he whispers, kissing her neck, her hair, any part of her that he can reach as they stand in their driveway. "If it happens, if it doesn't happen, all I need is for you to trust me and say _maybe_. And if - fuck, baby, if it happens again, and we have to do this again, that's it. I won't ever ask you for it again. I can't do this a second time. But - if Dr. Wu says that the stitches will work, then we _gotta_ try. How amazing will it be, babe?" He kisses her lips, soft and tender. "How amazing will it be to get the stitches and then get them taken out and then we get to hold our baby, and Beth gets to be a big sister and teach the new baby how to be a BAMF? We can do this again, and it'll _work_, and we won't be so sad anymore. I just - I want that for us."

She's still scared. She can't pretend she's not. But he's never been so desperate for anything in their entire relationship. She can_not_ deny him this when he's given her so much. It strikes her in this moment how much she's asked him for since becoming pregnant with Beth. She'd asked him for 30 days without so much as a single sext before she'd agree to be his girlfriend again. She'd asked him to think about getting married when the idea had terrified him. She'd asked him to give her the chance at another baby when he'd thought Beth was enough. And she's not sure she can remember _one time_ he so adamantly asked her for anything.

He talks about how awesome it would be to have another baby to replace their sorrow with joy, and Quinn has to fight the urge to argue with him again. She _wants_ another baby, but she's fighting the fear. "I... I'm scared..." He knows that. They both know that, and they're both scared. But she _needs _to be comforted right now. Needs it more than she can even explain. She needs to continuously be reassured that this is the right thing for them... for their family.

"You know what I'm gonna say right now," he murmurs with his lips to her forehead, his palm cupping her skull and fingers sliding through her blond hair. "I got you, Quinn." It's what he always says when she's frightened, or they struggle with pain and confusion and need something to ground themselves. "Everything with Adin was perfect, remember? The ultrasounds were perfect. His heartbeat was perfect. When he was born, he was _perfect_. The only thing that went wrong was your dumb cervix. And Dr. Wu can fix that. We know it's gonna be a problem when you get pregnant again, but since we know it, we can stop it from happening again. Put the stitches in, make sure you rest, do other stuff instead of making love all the time, and check you more than every four weeks. They can make sure he's healthy, babe. And he stays in there for longer. That's the only thing that went wrong. So, if we can fix that - Dr. Wu said we can fix it - then it won't happen again. And we can be, like, really happy." Maybe not as happy as they'd be with Adin and without their loss, but still - _happy_. "It won't be replacing him," he whispers, knowing that she fears replacing him, forgetting him, pretending that he never even existed. "Remember how much we wanted a baby before I even got the reversal done? And how much we wanted it when we were trying and trying and it wasn't happening? I want it just as much now. It's not just 'cuz of Adin that I want this. I want us, that big family we were supposed to have after we got married. I wanna go to temple with you and hold your belly and be like, _yeah, we're having __another one, isn't it awesome?_ I wanna be there as your _husband_, babe. I want Beth to come visit us and when we tell everybody we're having another baby, we get her one of those I'M GONNA BE A BIG SISTER shirts and take a picture of her and e-mail it to everybody to tell them." He kisses her lips, pressing his forehead gently to hers for a brief moment. "We can do this. I'll be there every night, every doctor's appointment. I'll hold your hand when you get the stitches put in and the ultrasounds and if you call me to tell me you're worried, I'll leave work and come home and take you to Dr. Wu if you're scared. And we can buy one of those things Dr. Wu used to check the baby's heartbeat, the Doppler thing, so we can check it at home if you're scared."

With a soft sigh, his palms slip down to lightly massage her lower back; his cheek presses to hers, and they stand in the driveway as the spring sun beats down upon them. "Let's go inside," he whispers, "we can make love, and then I want you to take a nap. Don't - don't clean or do anything, just take a nap. Take a bath downstairs in Beth's bathroom if you want," because he won't be there, and there's still some degree of panic when it comes to being alone in the bathtub or shower where Adin was born, so they usually bathe together in there, "and just relax. I'll bring something home for dinner for us and we can crack open some wine after Beth goes to sleep. Just - try to relax, okay? You're freaking out, babe, and you know I got you. I'd protect you with everything I've got. You just gotta trust me."

He's got her. He's always got her. She clings tight to him as he tells her tenderly what he wants. She nods. It all sounds so simple when he puts it into words. Everything new or scary that she's ever tried with him, from sexual things when they first started fooling around after getting together, to the night a couple of summers ago that they spent camping together and partaking of a less than legal substance (for strictly medicinal purposes, of course), Puck has explained step by step to her. It's something she loves about him. He never asks her to do anything that he's not willing to work through with her. And despite the fear she feels? In this moment, the sense of panic is gone, and all she knows is that she loves her husband, and he loves her, and no matter what happens, they _have _to stand together, or they will fall apart.

She pulls away from him, linking her fingers through his and waking slowly toward the door. There is a somberness hanging between them, but this is the first time Quinn has felt like they are actually legitimately going to make it through this. She squeezes his hand as they walk to the door.

When she steps away, and their fingers tangle together, he knows. She's going to take a leap of faith with him, and he's going to hold her until the end, and he'll catch her the best way he knows how. But if he can't catch her, if something happens and he can't, then he'll be right there holding her hand and falling with her. That's the important thing, that _they_ won't change. He's so fucking grateful that _she_ fights for them, too.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you to everyone who continues to read, add this story to their Favorites or Alert list, and drops us a review. It is amazing incentive to continue with this story! **

written in hearts**, thank you so much! Puck seems to have evolved tremendously since the beginning of Glee, and we hope that the writers will continue to explore that development into the next season.**

olacindy**, ****while we've certainly caused Puck and Quinn more anguish than they will hopefully experience in canon Glee, we do intend a happy (or, at least, not excruciatingly painful) ending. ****Puck and Quinn have compromised considerably throughout their relationship, and, as long as they continue to have different ideas on what is important, the compromises will continue. Thank you so much for following this story with us!**

lucklessforhim**, thank you so much! Your comments are always appreciated; they help us know what works and what doesn'****t work for certain characters. Our Beth is much inspired by the writing of a fellow writer who works with us occasionally. We hope to bring her in at some point to write for Beth.**

dancingdreamers**, thank you for following us! They are both experiencing so much emotionally that, despite their different viewpoints, they realize that they need each other if they will survive this with their marriage intact. **

finchelquickftw**, thank you so much for your consistent reviews! We do agree and understand Quinn's viewpoint; however, there are different issues at play for each character, and neither one of them feels that "giving in" is the right thing to do. We also hope to bring ****a writer for Beth in for a chapter or two; she is fantastic and really fleshes out the character.**

MissBrittana**, thank you! We hope that you continue to enjoy this story.**


	21. And if I Rained for You

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Twenty-One

"And if I Rained for You"

* * *

_When she steps away, and their fingers tangle together, he knows. She's going to take a leap of faith with him, and he's going to hold her until the end, and he'll catch her the best way he knows how. But if he can't catch her, if something happens and he can't, then he'll be right there holding her hand and falling with her. That__'s the important thing, that they__ won't change. H__e's so fucking grateful that she__ fights for them, too. _

Opening the door, he uses his key to unlock it, shoving it open and following her inside. "Is it so bad," he whispers desperately, kicking the door closed with his foot and wrapping his arms around her waist, his lips finding her neck in a way that they haven't in six weeks, "that I hope it works today? We need to be happy again. Like a fuckin' phoenix, babe. Rising from the goddamn ashes. We can _do _this." He tilts his head, rests his temple against her own. "I need you to make the first move," he breathes almost inaudibly. "So I know you want this... and I'm not pushing you into it." Much as it had been when he had finally proposed to her, he'd planned the basics and delegated tasks and set smaller things in motion so that when he did finally propose, she would know that he was serious. He was. He is. He'll always be.

Quinn shakes her head. It's not _bad_ that he hopes that, but she doesn't. She has agreed to give it a chance, but she's not sure that she's ready to be pregnant again just yet. If they do get pregnant again, she kind of hopes it'll take its sweet time in happening. Her hand rises to his face and she kisses him gently. He needs her to start this, and she understands. "I love you," she whispers against his lips, taking his hand. "I want... to go to our room, okay? Just... go with me? I want..." She doesn't really need to tell him. She needs to show him. And she does, tugging his hand gently as she ascends the steps to their bedroom.

Puck relaxes against her as she strokes his cheeks with her fingertips, kissing him sweetly. It's the confirmation he needs - that she _wants_ this, that she's _okay_ with it and the possibility that she could get pregnant again - and he twists their fingers together once more. "I want to be with you again," he whispers in response, following her, one foot at a time, up the stairs and to their bedroom. "I miss you so much, Q. Th - thank you for letting me have this. I know you're scared, but I'm gonna be with you, and - we can be scared together, okay?" After he speaks, he remains silent until they cross the threshold to their room; he presses the door closed behind them and moves to take her in his arms, folding her close to his chest as he kisses her hair. "Remember the first time we made love after we did the _niddah_ thing that Rabbi Greenberg told us about? We were, like, quiet and slow and soft. Can we do that again? Please?"

Quinn lets him hold her, because that is what she needs in this moment. She nods quietly. She can't imagine doing it any other way tonight. They have hurt so much - cried and ached and disagreed so much - that she can't imagine anything other than gentle, tender caresses and slow movements and quiet _love_ that would suffice for her after what they've been through. She raises her eyes to meet his, and presses a soft, tentative kiss to his lips. "I've missed you so much..." she whispers. Not that he'd been anywhere, but it wasn't the same. "I love you, Noah... I _love_ you."

He nods, once, tilting his head to brush his lips over hers once more. "I missed you, too. I missed this. We were supposed to be happy, baby." And they're not happy, but they can _get_ there... someday. His hands caress her shoulder blades, sliding down to brush his hands beneath the hem of the shirt she wears. "Slow, baby. I wanna make love to you, nice and slow. It's gonna be our first time since... everything, and I don't wanna hurt you." Before she speaks, he nuzzles against her jaw, sealing his mouth to hers in a tender kiss.

Quinn nods, about to agree, but before the words come his mouth is on hers, and her arms slip tight around his neck. Her eyes close, tears rising to the surface again. Ever since losing Adin, tears are on constant standby. She clings to him, hungry and desperate to be with her husband again. "We'll be happy again," she says softly, between kisses. "We have to be happy again..."

His thumbs brush slow circles on her hipbones as they hold tightly to one another, his teeth nibbling on her lower lip before he presses his mouth more firmly against hers and slides his tongue against the seam of her lips. "Mmmmm," he hums softly, her tears splashing hot against his face. Slowly, slowly, he eases her shirt up her torso, his fingertips tracing swirls over the skin of her back as he goes.

Her lips part, and she lets her body rest against his. She has longed for this since the day they lost Adin. Every time they are lost and confused, they find what they need in each other's arms, and this time, they weren't able to seek it at first. She moves a little to assist him in getting her shirt off, and her hands immediately go for his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers again.

He tosses her shirt to the floor, and promptly pulls away, fumbling for one last crashing kiss as he knocks her hands to the side and whips his shirt off and against the wall. Slow lovemaking makes way for a need to feel her naked skin against his _yesterday_ and not a minute later. His hands slide up the smooth muscle of her back to deftly unclasp the back of her bra. He's had a considerable amount of practice doing that in his lifetime, especially when it comes to Quinn, since he's been doing it since he was eighteen [she wouldn't let him do it before his eighteenth birthday, when they'd stood nearly-naked in the shower - Quinn wearing that ridiculous-but-sexy bikini as they stood and her hands had pumped him, her eyes a soft green as she'd asked him to teach her how to do it, and he'd bubbled up in foamy ribbons against her stomach and palms] and he's certain that he could do it in his sleep. He hasn't unsnapped her bra in six weeks other than to remove it when changing her clothes for her, the intimacy of the moment less sensual and mostly comforting than it had been in times previous. Now, it's all about sensuality and sexuality and love all wrapped up in the need for comfort and _sameness_ and some degree of normalcy. Their lives have been anything _but_ normal for the past six weeks and that needs to change.

Now.

He eases [yanks, and then his grip loosens as brain takes over for body memory and he realizes, _yeah, this is different from the last time_] her bra down her arms, tugging the straps from her wrists and dropping it on the floor. It's pretty and it's lacy and it disappears under his socked foot as he walks her backward towards the bed. "I need to feel you," he murmurs, his hands sliding down over her hips and stroking at her thighs. "I miss you. I need to make you remember how I feel on you - in you."

This? This is everything Quinn and Puck need. They are each other's greatest weakness, and each other's greatest strength, and there is nothing - _nothing_ - in this world that will comfort them like the safety and familiarity of each other's arms.

She undoes the button and zipper of her jeans (her old ones, because most of the baby fat is gone now), and pushes them down, hooking her panties in her fingers and taking them with the jeans. Completely bare, she lies down on their bed, reaching both hands out to urge him toward her. "I miss you, too," she whispers. "I don't want to miss you anymore, Noah..."

They've felt so lost since the day they lost their son, but today? They will find themselves in each other... in the love that they share. And right now? Quinn needs that more than she's ever needed anything else.

His eyes follow the motion of her hands as she undresses; his own hands unfasten his belt and jeans, shoving both down his hips before dragging his boxers to the floor. He doesn't need to see his actions to perform them, and it allows him to watch, awed, as she reveals inch by inch of bare skin. He's seen this skin in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, in a bikini and wrapped shivering in a peacoat, or cuddled in a blanket with the flu and a mug of chicken noodle soup or round with his children. It's skin that he loves, and he watches as she stretches naked on top of their bed [the bed that's seen them through four years of living together in their own home, and holiday sex and birthday sex and Valentine's sex and just-because sex and make-up sex and comfort sex and non-kosher-during-shiva sex and wedding night sex and struggling to conceive sex and celebrating getting her knocked up sex (that's the one they did for weeks... and weeks...)]; he _loves_ this woman and everything she is to him. "I love you so much," he says again to her, climbing on his hands and knees to hover his body over hers. "I need us to stop hurting."

"I need... I need _us_," she says simply, and as strangely worded as it sounds, it's perhaps the truest statement Quinn has ever made. She _needs_ them, because she may be weak, and he may be weak, but _they_ are strong. They need each other, and she knows that this moment is far more than sex, or even than a moment of comfort between husband and wife. This moment is their declaration of their dedication to life, no matter what death has taken from them. Their son is gone, but he will never leave their hearts. They still have Beth and each other, and the promise that, if they made it through this? They will make it through any and everything life throws at them. Death... fear... heartache had tried to take this away from them - their love, their life, the intimate relationship that has only grown since he made her his wife - but they won't let it. They are beaten, but they have not lost.

She looks up at him, hazel eyes shining with tears as her hands slips up his shoulder to rest on his cheeks, thumbs stroking the slightly rough skin of his face. Raising up slightly from the bed, she presses her lips to his, needing to feel him in the familiar way she's felt him before, and needing to feel him with all the tenderness of those whose sorrow is greater than their years, but whose love is greater than their sorrow.

No, this isn't just sex to them. It's the only way they know to find a true moment of peace, and maybe even a hint of happiness. And even if it's only a moment, Quinn will cling to it with all she has.

She meets him halfway, her gaze wet and wide and trusting; she's always trusted him, even if she'd followed the guideline of _trust but verify_ early in their relationship. Thirty days with nothing, including sexting? She'd spontaneously confiscate his phone and skim through the texts, depositing it in his outstretched hand with a smile when she found no incriminating evidence. She'd trusted him when he told her of how they'd graduate and get their own place to live, and how he'd be a dad and work and take care of them, and she could go to school and they'd have their own independent family at the age of nineteen. She'd trusted him when he had agreed to the reversal of his vasectomy, insisting that it was what _he_ wanted, too, and she'd trusted him when he'd planned the majority of their wedding and honeymoon before he'd even surprised her with an actual proposal. His trust in her had been unwavering, and he couldn't even think of a time where trusting her was difficult - except for in the unsteadiness following Adin's death, and, even then, that had been his own fears and inadequacies ruling his mind.

His arms surround her as she rises to meet him; lowering his body to hers, they lie together, bodies pressed from head to knee, calves and feet tangled as they kiss. So many times, their lovemaking has been quick and rushed with the urgency of _need you now_, even when they've had nearly infinite time to enjoy each other. His body nearly complies with what is being asked of it, and he pulls away from the kiss only to bury his face in the curve of her neck and breathe slowly, shakily. _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale_. This shouldn't be momentous, because they've been together for five years, but it still is. It _is_. It feels as though the rest of their lives depends on this one moment, these minutes where they stay closed in their bedroom and nothing in the outside world matters except for one another and the love they _know_ they share.

"I'm scared," he whispers as his lashes lie dark on his tanned cheeks. "I just - I need you to know that I'm scared, too. I love you, and I miss you, and - we can be scared together, okay?" His lips meet as he tenderly kisses her throat, tilting his head to trail light kisses over the curve of her jaw. "Wanna hold you like this," he breathes, his lips meeting hers; his are hot and dry, hers slightly swollen and moist. "Don't wanna let you go."

Quinn nods, her hands tracing gently down his arms as she tilts her chin up to kiss him. "I want you..." she whispers softly, eyes locked on his as she concentrates on syncing her breathing with his. "... to touch me... Please..." Her legs part just a little, drawing him closer to her, hands running over his shoulders then upward to caress his mohawk... It's silly, but it's been her way of comforting him for as long as she can remember.

_I want you, too_, he thinks, gently nibbling on her lower lip as he kisses a trail to the corner of her mouth and down over the curvature of her jaw. "I don't just - want to touch you," he whispers before licking at her throat in explanation. "I want to. Please, it's been - so long." His kisses pause at the hollow of her throat. "Please. Not until you come, but I just need - I want to feel you get close."

It takes her a moment, but she thinks she understands, and she nods up at him. "I need you... Please, just... Please?" Her eyes are dark with desire, though lust is hardly the driving force in this moment. His lips are tender on her face, and she carefully spreads her legs beneath him. Her hand finds his face and gently presses against his cheek so she can look him in the eye. "Noah..." she whispers. Nothing more. Nothing less. She is terrified of life without him, and this moment is their promise to each other that as long as they're both breathing, they won't be alone.

"Tell me to stop if you need me to stop," he whispers, his breath warm against her sternum as his kisses travel downward, pausing only as her palm cups his cheek and encourages him to lock his eyes with her own. "_Quinn_." The single syllable of her name is breathed in an exhale, soft and tender. "I love you," he whispers once more before continuing his journey down the length of her torso, kissing over the ridges of ribs and the soft skin of her stomach. _I missed doing this_, he thinks as his tongue traces over the crease of her hip, following the line down between her thighs and kissing softly as her legs part and he lies between them.

Her eyes drift shut, relishing the feel of his touch, his lips on her skin. "Don't stop..." she replies softly. "Don't ever stop..." He moves lower and lower, and her body shivers against him. "Noah, I love you, too..." she says softly, his tender kisses earning him the softest of moans from her lips. Her own hands follow the path he's made down her body until they've once again found his mohawk, stroking lightly against the short hair. Opening her eyes, she peers down at him, opening her legs even wider to let him closer and give him more room. "Noah, I love you," she repeats... Those simple words are, for her, right now, the ultimate truth. She loves him, and their family, too much to bury herself in her sorrow and fear anymore. She can't remember where she heard the phrase _Be afraid, but do it anyway_, but it is her mantra right now.

"I won't," he breathes, his mouth dropping the first of many slow kisses over her folds. He moves at an agonizingly slow pace, intent on tasting the flesh and fluid between her thighs, pink and shiny as she shivers and murmurs her love for him. _So beautiful. You're so beautiful._ All the self-control he can muster keeps him from devouring her like a wild animal the way he's done so many times before this time, before Adin. "Love you," he whispers against her body, trailing the tip of his tongue around her entrance and gathering her flavor on his lips. He moans; over the days and weeks and months and years, her flavor changes subtly but it's always the same as far as he believes because he loves her and always will and like the fucking road that isn't taken, _that's_ what makes all the difference.

Quinn's head rolls back on the pillow, and a small squeal escapes her, only to be swallowed up in a moan. She cries out, her toes curling at the feeling of his mouth on her. "Oh, God..." Her hips begin to lift on their own, pushing harder against his mouth. Her heart pounds in her chest as her teeth sink into her bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut. "I need..." She can't speak enough to form sentences that make sense, but she needs him inside of her. "Please... _Please_..."she begs.

He pulls away for a moment, resting his cheek against her inner thigh as he studies her face between his softly-panted breaths. "Please make you come, or make love to you?" he asks, his voice low and ragged. He wants both - he doesn't know what he wants - he's still that sixteen-year-old kid who doesn't know what he wants, sometimes. Thirty seconds is long enough to wait, and he crawls to hover over her body, sliding his arms around her ribs once more. "Help me." His voice is soft, imploring. "I need you to help me, babe."

So many times before he's said those same words to her, but she's not sure she's ever heard them with such a quiet tenderness. Her hand snakes down between them to slide him up and down as she did 5 years ago, almost to the day... the first time they made love after getting back together. Gentle and _slow_, so painfully slow, she guides him into her. Any other time, her eyes would squeeze shut, but this time? She locks her eyes with Puck's, focusing on being _aware_ of all of this.

He holds his breath as she carefully takes him in hand, and pushes into her with gentle precision. The last thing they need now is any more pain, and this is their first time - since Adin. He keeps telling himself that, that this could be that metaphorical phoenix that rises from the ashes left behind after Adin's death. "Are you okay?" he breathes, his lips peppering her collarbones and face with kisses, kisses to her cheeks and chin and throat and lips and jaw and nose and mouth. He won't move until she tells him that she feels good, that she'll get used to the fullness, until she moves her hips against his in wordless encouragement. She's warm, and tight and _wet_ around his length, and his hips rest flush against her thighs as he waits.

She slowly moves her hips, wiggling to adjust to him, before nodding at him. "Mmmhmmm..." She's not okay, but right now, with him, feeling their bodies become one again, she finally believes that one day, she might be okay again. Aching for more of him, her hips arch upward, a whimper her only vocal response to the feeling. Her hand curls against his neck, as their lips press together.

_Yes_, he thinks; his body and mind flood with a sense of _Quinn_ and nothing else. They are family, and happiness, and love, and _one_. They could heal. He presses deep, his knees digging into the mattress as he settles down and grinds harder against her in a slow figure-eight before pulling backward. "_Fuck_, baby," he exhales as he presses in once more, his eyes never leaving her face no matter how much he might want to pull back and watch as he slides slick inch by slick inch into her body. Her breasts draw tightly, her nipples puckered; he ducks his head to take one into his mouth, suckling slowly before pressing a kiss to the dark circle before licking his way to lavish the same attention on its twin. He's done the same thing so many times before [sometimes with tequila and salt involved]. "Don't _ever_ push me away, baby," he pleads, struggling to keep his thrusts slow and deep. "I don't ever - wanna be away from you."

"I... I don't want to be without you..." she murmurs through sighs and moans that he is _so_ good at drawing from her. Her hand is soft on his neck as she urges him to move so that she can focus on his eyes again. She concentrates everything on the emotion and intimacy of this moment. She believes right now that they might one day be okay again... more than okay... Happy even. "I love you..." she cries out, her hips shifting desperately upward, needing him more than she's ever needed anything. "Don't ever... leave me, Noah..."

"I won't," he promises, his lips traveling upward and leaving kisses over her collarbone and throat in their wake. His mouth finds hers; he kisses her delicately, remaining still for just a moment as he twitches, buried deep inside her. "I love you - I'm right here - never leaving, _never_." His forehead presses to hers, his gaze locked with hers, exhaling softly against her lips as he pulls away and thrusts deep again.

She knows that he means it, and despite everything, she feels safe here, held by him in their bed, his lips traveling her face and neck, and comforting her, and _loving_ her. This is home and family, and what makes her stronger makes him stronger, too, and what hurts one of them hurts the other, and she will make it because he will make it, and vice versa. Her hands are gentle on his back as she focuses on his face, eyes locked, noses and foreheads touching, breathing the same air. He slowly moves again, and despite what her body is telling her, she forces her eyes to stay open, lost in his... She needs every bit of intimacy that this can bring her, and she will take everything she can. Tilting her chin up, she kisses him gently. "I love you, Noah... I love you..."

He doesn't speak for a few moments; his hips thrust against hers in simple missionary position, rarely utilized in their lovemaking. His knees always hurt, or he rolls onto his back and pulls her on top of him, spanking her bottom for good measure and smirking as she rides him hard. It's not one that he often chooses, but - right now - it _works_, and he presses his forehead against hers, arching his back and moving only his hips back and forth, pressing deep, pulling away from her before pressing deep once more.

"We're gonna be okay," he breathes, his lips pressing to hers in a kiss. "We're gonna make it okay. Just don't leave me, don't - don't ever stop trying."

"I... I'm never leaving you, Noah. I promise you... I'm yours... I was always yours..." There is so much pain after all they've been through, but they _love_ each other so much. Her hips rise from the bed to meet his thrusts. "I missed this," she whispers honestly. "You... I missed you." She moans as they move together, her fingers gripping his shoulders tight. "I need you, baby."

Her nails bite gently into his shoulders, her moan muffled against his throat. It's good, and it's been too fucking long since they've been together this way and shared these moments and moans. "You got me," he whispers. "You know you always got me, even though all of the shit we go through. I'm yours. I'm never gonna be anybody else's. I'm never gonna stop loving you." They move together, but he wants her to _feel_ it, to know how she possesses him just as much as he keeps her. Dropping onto one elbow, he lightly shifts his weight, moving slowly to lie on his back and maneuvering her to lie atop him.

Quinn moves with Puck; it's simple... Quinn can't really explain it, but there is something natural and easy about making love with Puck. They instinctively know each other; they move with each other and there's never really a need for questions. With almost imperceptible movements, glances, and soft words, they direct one another. She comes to rest on top of him, her eyes filled with love as she looks down at him. Slowly, with long strokes, she moves up and down on him, her eyes slowly squeezing shut as she moves. "I love you," she sighs, leaning close to him to press her lips to his. "Oh, God... Noah..." They have lost so much, but this? They can't lose this. She won't let herself shut him out again. She won't let the fear take away the love that is so strong between them. There are tears rolling down her face, tears of the heartbreak they're too young to have faced, and tears of joy in the love that they've held onto despite it all... "I'm yours, too..." she whispers against the stubble on his cheek. "I will always be yours."

Puck turns his head as best he can; she rests fully against him, his chest to hers, something that they weren't able to do as her pregnancy progressed. It was a bittersweet moment when he'd realized that they couldn't make love this way until after their baby was born, but he'd give it all back, and he'd do it without complaining, making love to her with a beach ball between them if they could only have their son back again. He never understood how something - someone - they'd wanted so badly was taken from them, and there were people out there who didn't want their someones, parents who didn't want their kids or abused their kids or worse, and he and Quinn - who _wanted_ this - couldn't have it. The thought has troubled him since Adin's death.

He focuses on his wife, on her soft pale skin against his darker body, and the way her hair feels silky against his shoulder. "I love you," he repeats with an exhaled breath, leaning back against the pillows and finding her hips with his hands, guiding her to slide up and down his length as he inhales sharply at the sensation. "Baby, I love you, but I'm not gonna last." He wishes he could last forever, as long as she wants.

Quinn moves against him, a little faster, her palms spread flat over his chest. She knows he's close, even before he speaks, and she doesn't care. He's never left her unsatisfied, even when he comes first, and she knows this will be no exception. Faster. Harder. She urges him toward his release, her lips pressing firmly against his. "It's okay," she whispers, peppering his face with kisses. "It's okay, Noah... It's okay." She's not sure why she's repeating those words of all things, given how far from okay everything is, but she knows as she says them, that she's not just speaking to him. She's trying to convince herself. "I love you..."

She tightens around him reflexively; his back arches. "_Fuck_," he breathes, because it _is_ just that good, and it's been so fucking _long_ and he's pretty sure that if this lasts any longer, he's either going to have a heart attack or not be able to move for the next twelve hours. His hips jerk beneath her, bouncing her atop him as his hands grip harder at her thighs. The tightening begins at the base of his spine and deep in his abdomen, his thighs aching, and the buzz that had started deep in his belly spreads through his entire body. "Fuck, baby, I can't - I love you," he pants, gasping the words in a desperate whisper. His hands grind her down, pushing her deep down upon him as he jerks, pulsing within her in hot rushes. "I love you," he repeats as his body falls limp, blinking dazedly at his wife.

Quinn feels his release, and it's only then that it hits her that there is no going back. She has felt the fear, but moved forward anyway, and somehow, she feels a million times safer now. Facing fears, and doing so with Puck? That has been her way for as long as they've been together. This is no different.

Her release is fractions of a second behind his, and she collapses forward, gasping for air, her head pressed into the crook of his neck, eyes squeezed shut. "I love you, too," she murmurs, her fingers threading through his mohawk slowly. "We... we did this," she says, finding pride in the fact that they made it over this obstacle together, just like every other obstacle they've faced.

"We've always done this," he whispers against her temple, his eyes closing as his body relaxes fully. "We get through everything together, Q. Told you we could do this." And they'll know in two weeks, really, if they've done it this time, and he hopes like hell that she's ready for whatever comes next. Despite it all, despite lying sweaty together after going through some of the most difficult shit he could imagine, they're here now and they _will_ get through the rest of this, even as his hand rests heavy against her hair and his eyes close from overexertion [it's been awhile]. He shifts beneath her, his hands moving to adjust her hips and press her more comfortably against his body. "I love you," he mutters.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Firstly, we'd like to apologize for the wait. Our last chapter [20] was posted 20 June, and this chapter is being posted 29 July. Several family emergencies have prevented us from writing as often as we'd like. They are still ongoing, so we would ask you to please bear with us.

We would also, as always, like to thank those of you who are reading and reviewing, as well as those who are adding **L'Chayim** as a Favorite Story or adding it to Story Alert. Thank you!

**written in hearts** - Thank you for your compliments - we're flattered and grateful! We decided to try a bit of romance in this chapter, and we hope that is satisfies and meets your expectations.

**olacindy **- We are so glad that you are continuing to enjoy **L'Chayim**. Much of what we write is from our own experience, and we try to be as truthful as we can. It can be disheartening sometimes to read a poorly-written story that seems to be a crowd-pleaser, but we know that we are doing our best and we hope that our audience continues to enjoy our writing.

**dancingdreamers **- We hope that this chapter pleases you just as much! [Is this another hugging-your-desktop opportunity?] Thank you for your kind words; they are always motivating!

**finchelquickftw **- Everybody seems to grieve in different ways; both of the authors have experienced significant losses within recent months, and Puck and Quinn's reactions spawned from a discussion of grief and how different individuals handle grief. We hope that we have been true to character in writing their feelings and disagreement, and will continue to explore the issue from multiple angles. Thank you for remaining with us!

**lucklessforhim **- Thank you so much! We apologize for the delay in this update [admittedly, Glee Live was also involved, although that was more in the early days of writing this chapter]. Puck and Quinn seem to have a very complicated yet simple relationship on multiple levels, and we hope that we can adequately illustrate that as well as show how they work so well as a couple.


	22. That You Settled Down

**L'Chayim**

Chapter Twenty-Two

"That You Settled Down"

* * *

Two weeks later, Quinn sits on the toilet seat, pregnancy test in one hand, Puck's hand in the other. He'd gone out and bought it for her, and he'd wanted to be here, so here they are, together. She knows how badly he wants this, and she knows how terrified of it she is, but still... They are together, and he's here, and as he always tells her? He's got her. She looks slowly from the test to his face, then back down, squeezing his hand gently.

The few short moments seem like hours as Quinn waits for an answer. "Are... are you going to be okay if... If I'm not?" she asks him slowly, her eyes rising to meet his, if only for just a moment to have something to concentrate on other than the test in her hand.

He, too, stares at the test; standing in _that __aisle_ and studying the test boxes was almost familiar, because they'd done it together for months before the Hanukkah night they'd learned she was carrying Adin. He'd stood in the aisle again today for what felt like hours, knowing that the shelves of boxes held uncertainty, and questions, and answers, and the present, and the future. He'd finally selected a box and paid for it, bringing it home to Quinn and leaving it on the table. It's a box, and it should be innocent and everyday, but - for the Fuckermans - it's anything but normal.

"If you're not pregnant?" he questions gently, threading his fingers with hers and rubbing circles over her knuckles with his thumb. "I'll be okay as long as we don't give up. I mean, if you aren't now, just - I don't want to give up and say we're done with it." He sighs softly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "You want me to sit with you while you pee? Tell you jokes? I know a really good one about how to catch an elephant."

Quinn won't stop trying, no matter how much she might think she should some days. For Quinn, it has always been first instinct to protect herself, to avoid anything that might lead to a moment's pain. It's why she made Puck go 30 days without so much as a sext before she let him be a part of her life (and Beth's) again. She is, and has always been, a fan of sure things. And yet here she sits in the bathroom of the house that she shares with the person she'd once considered the farthest thing in the world from a sure thing. But now? She has never had anyone more solid in her life than the man right here with her. And this pregnancy thing... Definitely not a sure thing either, but as long as she has Puck, she'll give it one more try.

She kisses him softly and smiles. "You can tell me the elephant joke," she says, happy for any distraction, no matter how small. Her hands shake as she tries to open the test box, before shaking her head and taking a deep breath. Exhaling in the tiniest of hisses, she gets the box open and stares at the test in her hands. A matter of minutes, and this little thing is going to tell her what's coming next in her life. She looks at Puck, panicking just a little. "Okay... Tell me about the elephant..."

Puck smiles despite the tightly-coiled tension inside his belly, and eases the foil-wrapped test stick from her hands; he tears it open and places it on the counter top, handing her the paper cup he'd snatched from the kitchen just for this purpose. "So, you know how you catch an elephant?" he begins conversationally, boosting himself up to sit on the counter top, near the test. "You go out into the jungle where the elephants live. You dig a big, _big_ hole. And then you get a bunch of leaves and sticks and stuff and you burn them." He glances down at Quinn, reaching out to gently stroke her hair away from her forehead as she concentrates and he distracts. "And then you take the ash, and you put it in the hole so it's filled up. And _then_ you take some peanuts and put them near the edge." He grins now; he fucking loves this joke, and so does Beth. "And then when the elephant stops to eat the peanuts, you sneak up behind him, and you kick him in the ash hole." He laughs at himself, because that's all you really can do in a situation like this, and because it's better than crying. "So, that's how you catch an elephant. You doing okay?"

Quinn laughs, because the joke, as ridiculous and silly as it is, is funny. She loves Puck's silly sense of humor when it strikes him, especially in moments like this one, where she is sure everything else is hanging in the balance around them. She takes the test, checks her watch for the time, and waits, washing her hands and pacing slowly as she does. Finally, she crosses over to Puck, leaning against him and closing her eyes as she waits for the time to pass.

He hums to himself as she busies herself with the plastic stick [and it's one of his songs, one of the tunes he's put together on a weekend, stretching out on the wood of the back deck with a full mug of black coffee and his guitar], and he doesn't watch as she does it because, well, she's peeing on a stick, and he can at least give her some semblance of privacy as she does it. When she stands, placing the stick carefully on a folded washcloth to set and washing her hands as she waits, he slides down from the counter and wraps his arms around her slender waist, his lips brushing her jaw. She leans back against his body and he rests his back against the wall, closing his eyes and inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo, vanilla tangled with loose blonde curls. "So, a chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken looks pissed, and the egg's all smug and shit, smoking a cigarette. Chicken says, 'Guess we just got our answer.'" He glances over at the test, the shifting hourglass icon replaced by letters, _words_. "You want me to look?"

Quinn's eyes are closed as she leans against Puck's chest, focusing her attention on the sound of his voice, and the steady beating of his heart. She laughs just a little at his joke [after she gets it. She's not focused and it takes a moment.], then cuddles closer to his chest, needing so much just to know that he's here. He asks if she wants him to look, and, eyes still shut, she nods slowly. "Yeah... Would you?" she murmurs, shifting in his arm so that he can get to the test.

Shifting his wife to one side, he rests his cheek against her soft blond hair. She's tiny in his arms, thin and fragile, and he's strong and muscled [older and knowing now, given all they've endured], and he notices the way his muscles flex in his forearm as he extends it to grip the thin stick with the tiny blurred words. _Now __or__ never._

"Pregnant," he murmurs, blinking as he holds the stick up just high enough to read the words before dropping it on the counter top once more, his arms wrapping tightly around his wife's shoulders. "It worked. Magic stick says you're pregnant, Q." The shock is mild and the prevailing emotion is that of fear - fear that she would panic suddenly and no longer want this, no longer want _them_. "Talk to me."

Quinn is stunned speechless as he reads the word aloud, and immediately pulls her body close to his. All she can do is stare up at him in shock, her mouth slightly open as if she wants to speak, but can't. She braces her hands against his chest, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water before she tries to back away from him. She _said_ okay... she told him she would try again. She _knew _this day would come, or at least that there was a high likelihood of it, so why is it now that she's panicking? "Oh, God..." she whispers finally as she moves toward the bathroom door, out of his arms, and runs into their bedroom, quietly and quickly getting into bed and grasping a pillow close to her chest.

She wants so much to be happy, but right now?

She's just terrified.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Again, we apologize for the delay in posting. Life circumstances have prevented us from working on _L'Chayim_ as frequently as we would like, but we continue to discuss it often and do our best to make slow and steady progress.

Thank you for continuing with us.

**olacindy** - Thank you! We again apologize for the delay, but we hope that we have not disappointed you too deeply. We will slowly continue to write and update.

**written****in****hearts ****-** One of the things that we as writers love about Puck and Quinn is their romance. While we did not see much of it in canon, we like to believe that it existed and will exist in the future. Thank you for staying with us!

**finchelquickftw ****-** We could never forget about this story; thank you for remaining with us and having faith in us. Unfortunately, our lives have become quite chaotic and have not left much time for collaborative writing, but we hope that we will be able to continue writing together and, if nothing else, to complete _L'Chayim_.

**kitaleigh**** -** Thank you so much for your kind words! We hope to continue writing, even though Quick writers and fans are a rather small group.

Thank you!

**Beth Smith **and **tinkerbellbones**


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